


To One Thing Constant Never

by AccioInvisibilityCloak



Category: Nothing Much to Do
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Gen, M/M, idk how to tag this, lovely little ficlets, some of these will be AUs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 17:32:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 25,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3076139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccioInvisibilityCloak/pseuds/AccioInvisibilityCloak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short drabbles written for the Lovely Little Ficlets challenge. Titled because of how I have no overarching theme or storyline tying any of these together, they're just whatever I feel like writing about whichever characters and ships on any given day, so the ficlets are to one thing constant never. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Resolutions

**Author's Note:**

> This first one came about because I was thinking about the prompts and NMTD on New Year's Eve while listening to Clean by Taylor Swift, and I suddenly had a lot of Hero feels. I hope I did okay with her character, she isn't easy for me to write. This one is the New Year's Eve after everything happens in the series. It's also a little longer than I anticipate most of these drabbles being, but I do tend to get wordy, so you never know.
> 
>  
> 
> Please do not copy/duplicate this work.

There’s a New Year’s Eve party at Pedro’s. He may not be an all-around great guy anymore, but he’s still ever the host. Everything always happens at Pedro’s, it seems, and Hero doesn’t want to admit how much she doesn’t want to be there. Everyone’s always saying how brave and good she was to forgive Pedro and John and Robbie and… him, after what they did to her. They don’t realize the truth. Hero forgave them, yes, but she hasn’t been able to forget. She doesn’t think she ever will.

She still sees the disaster at her birthday party sometimes when she closes her eyes. She still wakes up crying, still has to catch her breath and try to convince herself it was just a dream. Hero puts on a brave face, the good girl everyone knows, but it’s exhausting. At the New Year’s party, it would be constant. Everyone being so nice to her, so careful, like if they moved or spoke too suddenly she would shatter in front of them like glass, the way she had after what happened on her birthday. 

Pedro would be repentant and overly attentive as he has been ever since his apology, John aloof and silent but never taking his dark eyes off her. The most John would say to her would be “How are you?” But she could always hear the “Do you hate me?” and "I'm sorry" hiding behind it. They’ve talked about this. Hero forgave him, but whenever she sees him, she can tell he still feels like shit for what he did. As he should, but thinking too much about that only reminds her of the whole ugly situation that she'd much rather be able to forget. Seeing each other is an uncomfortable experience for both of them. 

It’s the same thing with Pedro. She knows he’s sorry, and she’s accepted his apology, but it’s going to be a while before she can look at him without seeing what happened on her birthday. She has to expend such effort to make sure he knows she isn’t upset anymore, and it makes her tired just thinking about spending the entire night at his house. 

If she did go, Ben and Bea would try to get her into a party mood, would be too friendly and cheery and happy. She knows they mean well, but she doesn’t have the energy to be peppy right now, and besides, she’ll feel like a bit of a third wheel. She’s happy for them, really. She’d just kind of rather not be standing there awkwardly by herself while they kiss at midnight.

Balthazar and Ursula will be there, too, of course, and Meg is going solo this year, so she wouldn’t be alone in that respect. But things are weird since Balth and Pedro started going out. Hero thinks some of Pedro’s guilt has rubbed off on Balthazar. He doesn’t want to seem too happy in front of the girl who got the unhappy ending. 

Ursula’s just too perceptive, she’d know at the first glance that Hero was upset. Ursula is a good friend, and Hero loves her for it, but tonight she kind of just doesn’t want to try to pretend that she’s not exactly as exhausted and sad as Ursula thinks she is. Hero loves all her friends in spite of everything, but some days, that’s not enough.

Hero pleads a headache when Beatrice knocks on her partway-open door to tell her Ben’s here to pick them up. “I’m just going to stay here, make some tea and maybe read a little, I’ll be fine,” she promises.

“If you’re sure,” says Bea, and Hero can hear the concern in her voice. “I hope you feel better.” 

Beatrice’s phone buzzes and she checks it, and Hero can tell who it is just by the unconscious smile on her cousin’s face as she reads the name. “Ben does too,” Bea reports. Hero was right. Of course. 

“Tell everyone Happy New Year for me, will you?” she asks, and Bea promises she will, and then her phone buzzes again and she turns away towards the stairs.

So Hero is left alone, in her little room, sitting cross-legged on her bed with a mug of tea in her hands, just where she and Bea used to sit when they filmed videos together. Part of her kind of misses that, all the silliness and nervous rambling and slip-ups and bad jokes they cut out of each one. The other part of her never wants to go on the Internet again.

Her room is a mosaic of the past year. Pictures of her with Mum and Mumma and Leo, with Beatrice, with Meg and Ursula, with Balthazar at one of his gigs, with the whole crowd at one of the football matches, all of it hangs on her walls amid the fairy lights and printed-out copies of paintings and drawings and lines of poetry she found online. There’s a great picture from the night she and Bea and Ben did the watch-through of all the videos, a selfie of the three of them Hero took on her phone. A postcard from Italy that Mumma mailed her when she and Mum were still off seeing the world. A photo of Mum and Mumma, all sunglasses and smiles, somewhere in the world on their honeymoon. That same old set of pictures of Benedict Cumberbatch she keeps on the wall that Bea likes so much, and above that, still taped to the wall by its stem, a daffodil whose petals are wilted and dry. 

Their first date, in the park, all those months ago, he picked it for her. And her heart skips a beat as she rips it down and crushes it in one hand. She keeps finding pieces of Claudio everywhere, just when she thinks she’s rid of him, and it always hurts like hell. A little less, each time, but still.

Hero decides in that moment that by the end of this year, she wants to be able to look at a daffodil again without suddenly wanting to cry. She promises herself that she’ll always keep trying to move forward and try new things and meet new people, all those clichés no one actually ever manages to do- or if they do, they do it without realizing. 

Her real New Year’s resolution, though, is this. Hero is tired of being what everyone expects of her, a collection of assumptions instead of a flawed and hurting girl. She’s going to be more than the pretty face, the dutiful daughter, the perfect angel to be desired and tamed and broken. She doesn’t want to be Pedro’s guilt, nor John’s fragile glass to unthinkingly smash, Beatrice’s perfect little cousin, the innocent child the adults in her life still see or the lying cheater that everyone decided she was after what happened. She vows that she will not be Claudio’s idealized Hero, anyone’s Hero, everyone’s Hero. Not anymore.

This year, she’s going to find out what that means, what she wants it to mean. There are new things to see and do, new dreams to work towards, there’s a future and a museum waiting for its curator out there. She’s going to be fully, unguardedly happy this year, as often as she can, and when she can’t, she’s going to admit that to herself and she’s going to breathe. She can be alone, without being lonely. She’s going to be her own Hero.

She looks up at the clock then, just as it strikes midnight.

Hero is resolved.


	2. Wild Flamingos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Birds. Very short Team Blessed drabble.

Ever since he left, she sees birds everywhere.

A mural on a city wall, painted with five twittering bluebirds. A little golden songbird on a tree branch outside her window, starting her mornings with its music. A flamingo-print dress in a shop window. Front and center on the New Books shelf at the library, a text on Bird Species of New Zealand. Beatrice never realized there were so many birds around her before.

It’s like as soon as Benedick left for Wellington, all the birds of Auckland, real or not, finally returned, no longer having to worry about running afoul of him and his car. Heh, running a-fowl. That’s exactly the kind of terrible pun he would come up with, too.

She texts him a picture of the bluebird mural. “Look, I found your victims. Any more casualties on the way there?”

“That’s awesome! Nope, being careful. Miss me yet?”

“Miss you? No way, dickface! Miss _me_ yet?”

“Never, love.”

“Liar.”

“I might say the same to you ;)”

“Call me later?”

“Wild flamingos couldn’t keep me away.”


	3. Toast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Breakfast. Pedro makes breakfast for his flatmates one Saturday morning. Set during LLL. My theory of who the flatmates are is probably entirely wrong, but I like the headcanon that Pedro is really good at breakfast foods.

Each of the roommates has their special talents, and Pedro happens to be excellent at cooking breakfast foods. Which is good, as that’s all he _can_ cook without burning the building down.

Saturday breakfasts have become a tradition in the house, since Freddie instituted Vegan Fridays as one of their house challenges. Ben had been skeptical as to how not eating animal products for a day could bring them closer together as roommates, and privately, Pedro agreed with him. 

But Freddie, who is both very passionate about animal rights and very allergic to just about every food product (nuts, dairy, seafood, gluten, soy, the whole deal), wants them to give veganism a try. They’ve made a deal that one day a week, they’ll let Freddie plan all the meals, so that he’ll be able to eat everything served for once and his roommates can try all the stuff he likes.

So the next day each week, everyone but Freddie gleefully returns to their animal-product eating ways by enjoying Pedro’s scrambled eggs and toast and bacon, and that means Pedro has to be up early on Saturdays to cook. 

So, bleary-eyed and tousle-haired, he pads out to the kitchen on this particular Saturday morning to get started. His roommates probably won’t be up for a few hours yet, so actually, he doesn’t need to start the cooking quite yet. He gets everything out of the fridge and sets it on the counter, then sets about making himself some coffee.

“Ooh, can I have some?” says a voice, and Pedro turns, startled. 

“Morning, Balthazar.”

Who, by the way, is looking unbearably adorable in a rumpled Fife and the Drums t-shirt, his hair just as messy with sleep as Pedro’s own. 

Pedro turns away to finish making the coffee, and tries to push his earlier thoughts away. They haven’t been a couple since high school, he’s even been on a few dates since then, he should be over Balth. And there’s the no-relationships pact, of course. 

But seeing Balthazar every day, coming home to hear his music wafting down the hall, waking up and having coffee and making breakfast together- it’s making that house rule harder and harder for him to follow. 

“So, breakfast today, huh?” says Balthazar when their coffee is gone and they’re both more wide awake. “Need help?”

“Yeah, sure! Wanna be on toast duty today, bro?” says Pedro, determined to put his feelings aside for the morning, at least.

Side by side the two friends get to work on breakfast. Pedro starts the bacon and its sizzling aroma eventually brings a yawning Ben into the kitchen, though Freddie doesn’t show up until much later to grab his allergen-free cereal.

When everything is ready (and mostly unburnt) the boys serve themselves from the various pans and plates on the counter and the stove. Reaching for the eggs at the same time, Pedro’s hand brushes against Balth’s, and he immediately blushes and draws back.

If Pedro’s trying not to have feelings for Balthazar again, he might as well give up now. It may have been Balthy’s job this morning, but now, Pedro is definitely toast.


	4. Meeting the Maths Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Introductions. Claudio is introduced to Hero Duke for the first time. Pre-series.

Their first interaction was when he accidentally knocked over all her books that day in class. He beat himself up for the rest of the day about how ridiculous he must have looked, how the beautiful blonde girl must think him a fool.

But he didn’t really meet her until a few weeks later.

“Claudio, hi. This is Leo. Leo Duke, calling about the goalie spot on the team? It’s yours, kid. Practice tomorrow, right after school, yeah?”

“Y-yeah, okay,” Claudio answered, disbelief and delight in equal measure running through him, and he showed up at practice the next day right on time, with an overexcited Benedick babbling about how great it would be to play together now, more time for the Dream Team to hang out.

Claudio did not come up with the name. He didn’t know friendships had names. But Benedick was fun, and relatively popular, and he was more than willing to hold up a conversation for hours, not minding in the least the way that Claudio would sit and listen and only reply very occasionally. Some people thought that was annoying. But then, people thought Ben’s constant chatter was annoying too, so the boys were a good match.

Anyway, practice was fine, the rest of the guys were cool. Leo Duke, the coach, was just as awesome as Ben had told him. And apparently he thought Claudio was quite a good goalie.

Claudio himself was pretty sure he wasn’t very good at anything, but he only missed one of the many footballs kicked towards his goal that afternoon, overshooting its trajectory and ending up flat on his back with the ball in the goal behind him.

From his vantage point on the grass he could suddenly see her again, the blonde angel from his Maths class, waiting on the sidelines next to Leo and watching the boys practice with a pensive air. She’d brought a friend, a girl with long black hair who was giggling and watching Tony Venice as he aimed another ball at Claud’s open goal.

Claudio shot up just in time to stop Tony’s ball before it could pass him, and both girls cheered, as did Benedick from down the field.

“All right, boys, that’s it for today,” shouted Leo. “Bring it in!”

After the huddle, the team broke up and went their separate ways.

Heading towards the parking lot with Ben, Claudio could see Leo walking up ahead with the two girls. The blonde’s long hair danced behind her as she walked. Claudio stared.

“Hey, Leo!” called Benedick, running ahead to meet the coach as Claudio cringed and wished he’d just shut it. What if they had to talk to Blonde Maths Girl? Claudio wasn’t ready for that! Shit, shit, shit…

“Claudio, there you are,” said Leo when, a few worry-filled moments later, Claudio dared to approach the group. “We were just talking about that save you made at the end there. Even Tony thought it was good, you know. I think you’ll fit right in.”

“Ooh, Claudio”, said the black haired girl. “Awesome name. You were great today! Oh, I have to go, babes, there’s Robbie!”

“Bye, Meg!” called the blonde girl as Meg started towards a boy waiting on the edge of the lot with a scowl on his face. Claudio looked away, but he couldn’t help thinking that Robbie had been glaring directly at him. Robbie, the name was familiar… oh. His competition.

But the Maths Angel was saying something. He tuned back into the conversation- just in time.

“Oh, Leo, you never introduced us,” she was saying. Claudio blushed as she turned her head to look at him and Ben.

“Hero, you remember Benedick, right?” said Leo, and Ben and Hero nodded to each other, Ben looking suddenly moodier for some reason. Was there history there? But it didn’t seem like Ben knew Hero very well at all. Hmm…

“And this is Claudio, our brand spanking new goalie. Pretty good, huh? I do have an eye for talent. Claudio, this is my little sister, Hero Duke.”

He'd never heard such a beautiful name before. _Hero._

They exchanged shy smiles, Claudio praying she’d forgotten about the other day, but then- “Nice meeting you Claudio. I think we have Maths together, but I didn’t catch your name before.”

He wanted to melt into the ground and disappear.

“Y-yeah, me neither, I mean, we do. Uh, I like your name…” _Did he actually just say that? Ughhh._

“Thank you. Nice goalie-ing today, by the way. You were great,” she said shyly, still smiling.

Just at that moment, they reached Benedick’s car.

Claudio didn’t even hear the awkward goodbyes. All he could think about was Hero, complementing his saves, smiling at him without pity. _Hero._

He replayed Hero’s last sentence in his mind the entire way home, reveling in the fact that she finally knew he existed, never noticing the funny looks he got from an unusually quiet Benedick as they drove.


	5. Ticklish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Watching. Team Blessed settle an argument. Set immediately after "BLEURGH". Swears and very fluffy content ahead. (Is it cheating to just use the word in the ficlet instead of making the ficlet about actual watching? If so, I totally cheated and I don't even care.)

“We should probably turn off the camera now,” Ben points out after a moment.

“True. It makes me feel like they’re still watching, with their cold little electronic eyes,” says Bea.

“The viewers are not cold and electronic, Beatrice. They’re just people with good taste in YouTube videos, is all,” he responds with a nod at the camera, like the viewers really are still watching and he wants them to know he’s on their side.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure we decided to put this on _your_ channel, Ben. So that’s debatable at best,” she grins.

“In the interest of communication, love, I must inform you that I would win that debate. But since we’ve already agreed on our evening plans, we should probably postpone that.”

“You, denying the chance to debate with me? Who are you and what have you done with Benedick Hobbes?”

“Oh, trust me, our debating is far from over. But you’re right, we can spare the viewers that.”

Ben manages to hit the off button on the camera with his foot, which Bea rolls her eyes and pronounces “gross”.

When he moves to get up and extricate them from the bath a few moments later, though, she protests. “Actually, I think we should just stay in here. It _is_ kind of cozy.” She yawns, settling against his shoulder once more.

“For you, maybe, but that’s because you’re using me as a pillow!”

“Get used to it, dickface.”

“Fair Beatrice, I am more than happy to be your pillow for as long as you like,” he says flirtatiously.

“Good,” mumbles Bea, snuggling closer.

“Just not here,” Ben finishes, and proceeds to tickle her until she has to get up or succumb to lack of air.

“You… asshole…” she laughs, struggling to get away, which is difficult given that they’re both still trapped in the bathtub.

Although that also means she’s close enough to easily take her revenge.

“Ahhh! Noooo!” Ben crows through his own laughter as her fingers press into his sides, and she loses it all over again because his laugh is so weird and cute and then he gets the upper hand again and she’s laughing even harder and wriggling to escape again but maybe not exactly trying very hard to, either.

Somehow they get out of the bath, but end up tumbling immediately to the floor, which of course only means more room for an all-out tickle war.

And that’s how, several minutes later, Beatrice Duke finds herself sprawled on top of Benedick Hobbes on the floor of his bathroom, both still wheezing with laughter, until they catch their breath enough that she can lean down and kiss him.

“You know, this is even more uncomfortable than the bath,” he points out when they break apart, not sounding like he minds it at all.

“Well, there _is_ still the bath,” she teases. “It’s an excellent snuggle space…”

“You win, love,” he breathes, so of course they end up back in the bath with the pillows piled behind them. There’s a little more space with the camera and tripod banished to the floor, and they take delighted advantage of it.

In between kisses, Beatrice happily reflects that there are plenty of ways to win an argument with Ben.

She’ll have to remember that he’s ticklish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if I described it poorly, but I had to do the tickle fight when the plot bunny bit me. I mean, I dare you to think about Bea and Ben tickling each other and laughing together, and not smile. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this one! :)


	6. Like the Blood of Your Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: Makeup. Meg finally gets to paint Ursula's nails. I'm sorry this is so short :p

“It’s about time I got to paint your nails, Ursula! None of this green nonsense, I don’t know what Hero was thinking,” says Meg excitedly.

The two girls are draped across Ursula’s bed, and they’ve been just talking about everything that’s going on in their lives. Meg is going away to university in the fall, and Ursula’s been accepted to a film studies internship over the summer before she starts her final year at Messina High. Ursula leaves in two days, and by the time she gets back, Meg will be gone, so this is the last chance they have to spend time together.

“So are you excited? About uni, I mean?” Ursula asks as they move to the floor and Meg spreads tissues on the ground over which to break out the nail polish.

“Yeah, I can’t wait! Fresh start and all that. God, I can’t stand it here anymore, Messina and Auckland just remind me of all that drama. But I’m going to miss you!”

“I’ll be sure to write,” says Ursula wryly.

“No, seriously, you have to! That would be so cool, sending each other letters! You can tell me all about how you’re rocking film studies, and I shall relate all my juicy uni stories. I’m going to dominate that campus. You see what I mean, look at this color on you, it’s perfect!”

“I do like it,” admits Ursula. “It reminds me of you, actually.”

“And the blood of your enemies, right?”

“And the blood of my enemies,” laughs Ursula as Meg keeps painting.

When Ursula’s nails are done, she paints Meg’s, a matching shade of bright red.

“Look at us,” says Meg, happily waving her fingers around so they’ll dry. “We are gonna take the world by storm."  
  


 


	7. In All The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: Hypothetically. Very fluffy, slightly cheesy Team Blessed future!fic. The on-again off-again ends up staying on in the end. Featuring the headcanon this prompt inspired me to come up with, that whenever Beatrice hears the word "hypothetically", she knows Ben is trying to hide some problem or situation or misadventure from her. And he always fails to hide anything, because she can always tell. I also like my headcanon of Beatrice's job a lot. I do think Ben would also work, but I have absolutely no idea what he would do, so I didn't mention it. Also, thanks to Ann_Knightley/officiallyelizabethbarton for Olivia's name, because I came up with Olive for a potential Team Blessed kid's name a while ago, and then she suggested full name Olivia.

It’s late, and Beatrice is nursing a headache, and even though she loves her job, tonight she really just wants to go home.

Unfortunately for her, it’s an important night for the magazine, the anniversary of its founding. Bea’s a literary critic; she reviews science fiction and fantasy novels, and sometimes movies and TV shows too, and she’s the best in the business, never afraid to air controversial opinions or publish negative reviews. So she has to go to the party, hobnob with her coworkers on the literary scene.

But first, she takes a little break and ensconces herself in her office to call her husband.

“Hello, love,” Ben says in surprise when he answers. “How’s the party?”

“I haven’t gone down yet, I wanted to check in on you and Livs first. Is she ready for bed?”

“She’s all set,” says Ben, but there’s something in his tone, like he’s hiding something, and suddenly Beatrice can hear a soft sniffling in the background.

“Is that Olivia? Why is she crying?”

“Er, well, don’t get too worried, love, everything’s under control-”

“Benedick Hobbes, you tell me what happened right now. What did you do to my daughter?”

 “She’s fine, Bea! I promise. It’s just that, _hypothetically_ , it’s possible she _might_ have slipped a little when I was giving her a bath, and bumped her head on the faucet…”

“What? You’re supposed to be watching her! Are you sure she’s okay?”

“Promise. She’s brave like her mum, she hardly even cried at all. You’re in your flamingo jammies and ready for your bedtime story, right Olive?”

“You are hopeless. Put her on, will you?” Bea asks.

She spends a few moments listening to Livie babble about the story she and Daddy are about to read. Olivia sounds fine, if still a little sniffly. Bea says goodnight and promises the little girl that she’ll be home soon, and then Benedick takes the phone to reassure her again that he has everything under control and she should just enjoy the party and relax.

“Okay, okay, I will. I love you.”

“I love you too, Bea.”

A few moments after they hang up, Beatrice’s cell buzzes with a text alert, and she opens it to find a picture. Olivia sitting in her bed, Ben beside her, holding a large blue ice pack to the three-year-old’s forehead with one hand while holding up his cell with the other to take the photo. Their daughter’s dark brown curls poke out from around the ice pack, and she’s smiling brightly despite the tear tracks on her little face. Ben is grinning too, and it strikes Beatrice again how much Olivia looks like him. He says he can see Bea in her as well, but in this picture she’s all Ben. Even with the ice pack covering part of her face, Olivia is still the most beautiful thing Beatrice has ever seen.

“We miss you!” says the caption. Even though she just saw her family this morning, the feeling is mutual.

Bea smiles and sets the picture as her phone background before heading downstairs to the party, and eventually, home again to the two people she loves best in all the world.  


	8. The Crystal in the Crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8: Crime. Dr. Balthazar Jones and his partner, FBI Special Agent Donaldson, have a new murder case to investigate. This is a Bones AU, and if you haven't watched the show, I highly recommend it. Also, warning for blood and gore because the murder victim is in bad shape. This was so much fun to write. I might continue it in later LLFL ficlets if people enjoy it!

“Bones, we’ve got a case!”

“Don’t call me Bones.”

“Fine, fine, _Balthazar_ , we’ve got a case. Come on, I’ll drive.”

Dr. Balthazar Jones, one of the world’s most renowned forensic anthropologists, followed his partner, FBI Special Agent Peter Donaldson, out of the Jeffersonian Institution and to his large black FBI-issue car. Dr. Jones’s specialty was the identification of human remains when they were too badly decomposed, dismembered, burned, waterlogged, or otherwise deteriorated to make a positive ID on sight. He worked with Agent Donaldson in the investigation of homicides, and together they had the highest solve rate of anyone in the Bureau. They made a good team, even if Donaldson was kind of a jerk sometimes and refused to take the time to appreciate the science behind Jones’s work.

“Unidentified human remains, badly decomposed. Apparently a couple of kids were nosing around an alleyway playing detective, and they stumbled upon a real mystery. Their testimony so far has been nothing but gobbledegook. I hope we can get something out of them,” commented Donaldson as he drove.

“So while you’re interrogating these children, I will be…”

“You will be seeing what you can make of that,” said Agent Donaldson, pulling up to an alleyway between two buildings, where several uniforms and crime scene techs were nosing around a large quantity of black plastic sheeting with a bloodied and partially skeletal arm poking out of it. The bones were surrounded and stained by rotting flesh.

By the time Donaldson had pulled over, Jones was already opening up the passenger side door, keen to examine the corpse. Donaldson followed behind him, pulling out a handkerchief to hold over his nose.

“The plastic sheeting appears to contain a complete skeleton, some flesh still present. Victim appears to be male... I’ll need the proper conditions of the lab in order to conduct any further examination without contaminating the remains. And Dr. Hobbes will be able to analyze the plastic sheeting for any particulates or insect activity. He’ll be very pleased,” commented Balthazar, looking down at the body. “The rate of decomp and the nature of the body dump… Donaldson, it’s too early to tell for sure, but this looks like murder.”

“You heard the Doc, boys,” Donaldson, whose friends called him Pedro, said to the crime scene techs. “I need the whole kit and caboodle brought back to the Jeffersonian, now!”

He turned his head to look at two kids huddled together on the sidewalk at the mouth of the alley- a thin, reedy, dark haired boy and a blonde pigtailed girl, both about fourteen or fifteen years of age.

“Bones- I mean, Balthy, you get to work on our vic, I’m going to talk to the kids, get their side of the story. Dogberry and Verges, who ever heard of names like that?”

“Pedro, names are unique signifiers given to children in order to differentiate them from the rest of society, it’s only natural that parents pick names as original and distinctive as possible for their young. It’s an anthropological paradigm as old as-”

“You’re just bitter because your name is _Balthazar_ , Bones,” scoffed Pedro.

“Good luck with your interrogation, _Peter_ ,” said Balthy, and he just caught Donaldson’s cringe at his given name before turning away to kneel beside the arm again.

Judging by the skin tone of the remaining fleshy bits, the vic was probably Caucasian, but he would have Beatrice Duke reconstruct and examine the skull for facial markers in order to make a positive identification of race. Beatrice was one of his best friends and also the best forensic artist in the business. Her facial reconstructions gave victims back their faces. Balth was hopeful that Beatrice could work her magic and give this guy a face; maybe the sketch would get a hit in the federal databases and then they could give Donaldson the victim’s identity.

Examining the victim’s curled finger bones, Dr. Jones caught a strange glint of sunlight shining off something clasped between the bones. With his own gloved hands he prised open the dead man’s- and out fell a glittering silver engagement ring, with a large, perfectly cut diamond set in the center. The crystal was smeared with gore, but still parts of it sparkled when he held it up to the light.

He bagged and tagged the ring as evidence. Another thing for Dr. Hobbes to examine. The Jeffersonian’s resident bug, slime, and particulate expert also knew a little about gems and minerals, and although Balth was pretty sure the ring was real, he knew his colleague would know for sure. Benedick would have particulate analysis to last for days. He'd be thrilled.

Balth wondered what Dr. Hobbes would make of the diamond’s discovery. He himself was wondering why the murderer wouldn’t have taken the ring to sell, it looked valuable. There was something important about this ring. It was a clue.

Dr. Jones bagged the skeletal arm itself and as much of the surrounding bits of tissue as he could salvage, just in case, then assisted the crime scene techs with lifting the whole body into a clean body bag, plastic sheeting and all.

He hoped they would catch whoever had done this, and soon. Every death he investigated, weighed on him, on his heart and his mind. This poor man was no different.

“I will find out what happened to you,” he promised the sealed body bag. “My partner and I will find your killer.”

 


	9. Magic Works

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 9: Magic. This one's set in the same Hogwarts AU universe that my longer fics "At Hogsmeade" and "Amortentia" are set in. This ficlet is Beatrice thinking back to the disaster that was the Yule Ball in her fourth year at Hogwarts, and how her friendship with Ben ended, and thinking about how much things have changed since then. Title is from that song "Magic Works" from the fourth Harry Potter movie, which, yes, is the slow Weird Sisters song mentioned in the story. I'm not super happy with this fic, but whatever. I also do still headcanon the hand-holding thing even in the normal NMTD universe, that the reason they both hate hand-holding is because Bea tried to take Ben's hand once when they were fourteen and he dropped hers because he didn't understand his feelings and he wanted to distance himself so it would hurt less when she left for Wellington at the end of the summer, so hand-holding reminds Bea of that rejection and Ben of how awful he felt when he let go of her hand, even though he didn't understand why. Anyway, yeah, so here's this ficlet. Also, yeah, the last line of this fic is totally based on that super cheesy line from the GOF movie, "I love magic!" I had to do it, it was too perfect.

Beatrice remembers it all too well, what happened the last time she let herself like him. She had barely understood how strongly she’d felt, had just known that if anyone asked her to the Yule Ball, she wanted it to be him.

He had ignored all of her anvil-sized hints, and she still cringed when she thought back to the time after Quidditch practice when she’d tried to take his hand. He’d dropped it like he thought it was cursed or something, and had nervously tried to bring the conversation back around to the final match of that year’s International Quidditch league. When Beatrice thought back to that day, she could still feel the sting of rejection and embarrassment and his warm skin against her own.

 She’s hated hand-holding ever since.

And it was true that after the whole Yule Ball business he’d withdrawn from her, stopped walking to class with her and bantering at lunch and everything, and so maybe she’d kicked the insults up a notch, acted like she was fine, to hide how much she’d been hurting.

It had sucked, watching Ben dance to that awful Weird Sisters slow song with some Beauxbatons girl, while she, Beatrice, had sat awkwardly beside Pedro and wished she hadn’t agreed to go with him as friends, had just stayed up in the dorms. She’d agreed to dance with the first guy who asked, who was also from Beauxbatons Academy, and all she thought about the entire time was how much she wished that she was here with someone else.

The argument that had happened after the dance was one of their worst. She didn’t remember all the particulars, because she couldn’t stand to remember them. She hadn’t thought there would ever be a time when she could look at Ben and not see that night, not see him shouting at her and her shouting back and- well, maybe she never exactly minded how clearly she remembers the hex she’d cast on him then, just before she ran away.

And now this whole Hero thing, and suddenly, she looks at Ben and what she sees is comfort and companionship and lighthearted banter in the darkest of moments. There’s no hatred there, no hurt, not anymore.

Everything is positively awful. The weeks after Hero… they’re some of the worst of both girls’ lives, and Beatrice is furious and sad and betrayed and confused, but when she’s with Ben, it just melts away.

She’s scared, and that’s the truth of it. Scared that everything will come crumbling down, scared of making things worse, of being betrayed again.

And then a moment comes, when she doesn’t have to be scared anymore, because he’s there, holding her hand again, not letting go this time, and she can’t hold this back anymore.

She kisses him, and everything falls into place for just a moment. It’s like magic. He is magic.

She _loves_ magic.


	10. Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 10: Party. At his costume party, Pedro the robot reflects on his feelings for a certain princess. 
> 
> I just headcanon that Beatrice is that summer crush that Pedro has never quite been able to get over, and as soon as he thinks he is over her, she comes back and he starts liking her again. It isn't until the events of NMTD and his crush on Balthazar that he eventually gets over her for good, but this ficlet is set when he still really likes Bea. (Just to be clear, I do not ship Bea and Pedro at all. Never ever. I just find Pedro's unrequited crush on her to be an interesting plot point and fun/compelling to write about. The Pedro/Bea is one sided only, that's the only way I write it if and when I do write it.)

It’s his party. Bea’s a guest at his house, for his party, for the Student Leader election she helped him win, and she’s barely said two words to him all night. 

Maybe that’s because he’s been busy keeping his promise to Claudio and talking to Hero, trying to see if she likes Claudio back. But Hero sticks to her close friends at parties, that’s how she is, so they’ve been right next to Bea all night and she’s still acting like he isn’t even there. Robots have feelings too, after all, and his are a little bruised.

Maybe she just doesn’t recognize him. It’s probably a good thing that she doesn’t, actually, because it keeps his cover from being blown with Hero. Even as he’s talking to Hero, though, the eye openings in his robot head are focused on Bea.

And she looks beautiful, too. Her cheeks are flushed, whether from the heat or the drinking, and her eyes are alight, and when she laughs his heart skips a beat and he falters over his words and forgets all about Hero for a moment there.

 He can see her on a different night, in this same living room, laughing just like that, the night when they were thirteen and had watched Grease together. It had been on some weird channel on TV and they were bored, so they’d started singing along in poor imitations of the characters’ voices. He seemed to remember Beatrice doing a very silly lip-sync to “Sandra Dee”, and himself laughing until his stomach hurt. That was a great night.

Bea doesn’t remember any of that. He knows because he decided to be an idiot that time after the football match and sing “Summer Lovin”, which is now on the Internet for everyone to see, and Beatrice had barely reacted. She’d had other things on her mind.

That summer, when they were thirteen, was both a first and a last. It was the first summer Pedro realized he had a crush on Beatrice, and the last summer he’d had her all to himself. By the next year, he was best friends with the new kid at Messina, and something about Benedick and his humor and intelligence and obnoxiousness tended to remind Pedro of Beatrice. He’d been a little starstruck by his amazing new friend –he could feel his face reddening under the robot head as he remembered that- and he couldn’t wait to introduce him to Beatrice, and he was both excited and nervous to see Bea again.

Like he’d known they would, Bea and Ben hit it off right away, and suddenly his two favorite people in the world were so close and happy they’d barely noticed they were excluding Pedro, or at least that’s how it had felt to him.

And of course like clockwork his crush on Beatrice had come back, like it had every summer since. He was supposed to be outgoing and brave, but he could never work up the nerve to tell her how he felt, Beatrice who turned her nose up at romance. And what would be the point, when she kept leaving at the end of every summer anyway?

Now she isn’t leaving. Now Beatrice lives here in Auckland and she doesn’t have to go home in a month, and what’s more, she _hates_ Benedick.

There’s a part of Pedro, an ugly, mean part, that’s so glad she does. He isn’t excluded anymore, at least.

Anyway, he takes his eyes off Beatrice long enough to learn that Hero definitely has some interest in Claudio, and then he has to leave in search of his friend, and of course he should be playing host and mingling. He still wishes he could stay here with Bea. He’s feeling bold tonight, and she’s in a good mood, and maybe if he can get her alone, he can finally ask her out.

He isn’t sure whether she’ll say yes, but there’s one thing, one sliver of hope: Beatrice is always calling him the Prince of Messina, and out of all the costumes in the world, she came to his party as a Princess. The Princess of Messina, maybe.

That has to mean something, right?

 


	11. Fake Not-Dating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 11: Sleepover. This one is in the same LLL-verse as the "Toast" drabble I wrote for the Breakfast prompt, but a little later chronologically. I didn't know what to do for Sleepover as a prompt, and this headcanon really doesn't resemble the plot of Love's Labour's Lost very much, but there's so many fake-dating AUs in this fandom, and I thought it would be kind of hilarious if the reverse of that happened. So here's this. Beatrice and whoever else is in the Princess's group have arrived and the no-relationships bet is not holding up well.

“Stay,” whispered Ben, brushing a strand of blonde hair back behind Beatrice’s ear.

They were curled up on top of his bed, still fully clothed, just cuddling, Beatrice having snuck into the flat so she could see her boyfriend without Pedro, Balth and Freddie figuring out that Ben had broken the no-relationships rule almost as soon as he’d agreed to it. In retrospect, they probably should just have gone back to where she was staying instead. Marginally less skulking around.

“I can’t, they’ll catch us.” Reluctantly, she pulled away, not looking forward to the secret-agent-like maneuvers she’d have to make to get out of here undetected.

“They’re all asleep already, and you can sneak out in the morning before they’re up.”

“You’re the one who decided to make that stupid anti-relationships pact when you knew you had a girlfriend! I wouldn’t have to worry about sneaking around if it wasn’t for that nonsense.”

“Hey, we were broken up, remember? I distinctly remember you saying you never wanted to see me again.”

“You weren’t supposed to take me seriously! How are we still so bad at communication, Ben?”

“New rule, then. Nothing we say when we’re arguing like that is serious. We take time to calm down and then we talk about it, instead of, well…”

“Instead of making a pact to stay single forever on pain of death?”

“I cannot believe I did that. I’m sorry, love. I’d definitely rather be with you than single.”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too, Ben.”

“Does that mean you’ll stay? It _is_ two in the morning after all, and you’re already here, you might as well.”

“Maybe we should just go tell them I’m here and be done with it. Remember the mess that happened the last time there was this much plotting going on?”

“Oh, come on, I bet Pedro that he'd be back with Balthazar before he could prove I’d made up with you again, and those two were practically all over each other on movie night the other night. They definitely can’t hold out much longer. Just a few more days, and then we’ll tell them we aren't broken up. Freddie can’t kick me, Balth, _and_ Pedro out, he wouldn’t be able to cover the rent on his own! Please, Bea?”

“All right, fine. We’ll keep acting like we aren’t together. And people who aren’t together don’t have impromptu sleepovers, _dickface_ ,” she said teasingly, and pressed a final, deep kiss to his lips before tiptoeing for the door.

“Goodnight, love,” he whispered after her as she left, wishing she didn’t have to go.

They both really, really hoped Pedro and Balthazar would slip up soon. It was only a matter of time before _someone_ got caught, right?

 

 

 


	12. Olives Notwithstanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12: Olives. This is terrible and really short but it's been a long day. Best I could do for today.

Beatrice really, really wishes she didn’t have to help host this forgiveness party or whatever it is. The Duke-Donaldson family dinner was bad enough.

In the end, though, everything goes okay, and Pedro and Balthazar even work things out and get together, and she’s surprised, but not that surprised. 

And when Ben comes downstairs to gloat to her about his newly acquired Love God status, and discovers the olives on the appetizer table, a good long back-and-forth about whether olives are disgusting and whether Bea should try one, and whether it’s cause for concern that Ben still has room for olives after that huge piece of cake she knows he stole, is all she needs to completely forget how nervous she was for this party. 

The night has a happy ending after all, olives notwithstanding.


	13. Adored By Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 13: Family. Balthazar reflects on his crush on the Prince of Messina. Title taken from the song "Adored By Him" by doddleoddle on YouTube, for which there's a Pedrazar fanvid out there somewhere on the interwebs. This fic is my response to timetobegin's request in the comments on my Pedro-at-the-costume-party ficlet from the other day, for a companion piece from Balthy's POV.

Balth really hasn't been in love with Pedro for _that_ long. Yeah, his crush may have started in year nine, but it isn't like he's been totally hung up on Pedro ever since! He's liked other people too- Tony was his boyfriend for a while last year. Balth's crush really isn't... Okay, yes, it is that bad. It's BEEN that bad.

He's hopelessly in love with the Prince of Messina, as some people call him. What would that make Balthazar? Court jester? Pedro would say it makes him the Chief Royal Music Man. Balth smiles at the image of himself serenading a princely Pedro who sits on a throne, wearing a gold crown and purple cloak over his usual t-shirt and jeans. Who is Balth even kidding? 

Ursula insists that she sees something between them, that it's more than possible Pedro feels it too. He guesses he doesn't know for sure that Pedro doesn't like guys at all. He does know, though, that Pedro has had a couple girlfriends since Balth has known him. But Pedro's biggest crush is on his friend Beatrice. Apparently, Pedro knows a thing or two about unrequited love himself. He hasn't come right out and said it, but the frequency with which he talks about her, especially right after she leaves for Wellington at the end of every summer, says it all. That, and the goofy, adorable, excited expression he gets when he mentions, one day just before they start year 13 at Messina, that Beatrice is moving back to Auckland semi-permanently, starting at Messina High as soon as she arrives.

Balth's heart sinks. He and Pedro have gotten so close lately, hanging out almost every day, and there was that time Balth dropped his guitar pick and they both went to pick it up, and when their hands touched, Pedro waited a beat longer than necessary before pulling away. Balth's fingers tingle pleasantly at the memory. He's allowed himself to get his hopes up, feeling electricity like that between them. 

With Beatrice around, Balth won't stand a chance.

 

Sure enough, when the smart, snarky blonde new girl arrives at Messina two weeks into the term, it's obvious Pedro can't take his eyes off her. Balth is expecting to resent her, but while she can be abrasive, she actually seems kind of cool. She has good taste in music, that always gets people into Balth's good graces. But she's also better friends with Pedro than he's ever been, at least that's how it feels, and he's lying if he says he isn't the slightest bit jealous.

It was bad enough always hearing Pedro talk about Beatrice so glowingly at the end of every summer, knowing that even though Balth was right in front of him, Pedro wished he could be talking to Bea instead. Now that she's actually here, though, it's ten times worse, because he can see why Pedro likes her so much. They'll probably be making out in another fortnight. Balth doesn't stand a chance.

 

Then Ursula calls him up and tells him to watch Beatrice's latest YouTube video (she's friends with Bea too, and sometimes helps her with filming, the traitor). Pedro and Beatrice in the video are talking about Hero and Claud's first date. Beatrice makes a jokey remark about being the only one left without a boyfriend, and Pedro offers to be her Prince Charming. Beatrice laughs, actually falls over onto Hero's bed, she's laughing so hard, but Pedro looks absolutely heartbroken. Balth feels so bad for him in spite of himself. Bea seems to realize he wasn't kidding, and she looks remorseful and highly uncomfortable about it. Balth hits pause and texts Ursula.

**" _What was that? That was a no, right, Urs? Right?_ "**

_"Of course that was a no. Beatrice really doesn't do the whole dating thing. I think she likes someone, but she'll never admit it. But that was definitely a no."_

_" **Am I a terrible person if I say 'good'?"**_

_"Yes. But I love you anyway. And Pedro will get over it."_

 

Balth gets used to being second-best in Pedro’s eyes. He doesn’t expect his crush to ever lead anywhere- it’s been four years and nothing’s happened, why should now be any different?

He ends up becoming friends with Beatrice, and however sad he is about the Pedro thing, he can’t hate her for it. It isn’t her fault, after all.

But even when Pedro is being a total dick about the Hero thing, and Balthazar stops speaking to him, he still wishes Pedro would look at him the way he’s always looked at Beatrice. Even when Bea and Pedro’s friendship splinters, and when it becomes readily apparent to Balthazar that she’d never have said yes to Pedro, because anyone can see that she actually loves Benedick, Balth can’t quite stop feeling jealous of what Bea and Pedro used to have.

All Balthazar wants is to be in Beatrice’s position for just a moment. He wants to know that all those little moments between him and Pedro weren’t just a fluke. All he wants is to know what it feels like, to be adored by Pedro Donaldson.

 

 


	14. The Crystal in the Crime Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 14: Disgusted. The second part of my NMTD Bones AU. The squint squad finds out more about the man in the alley. Featuring forensic entomologist Benedick and facial reconstruction expert and forensic artist Beatrice, plus Ursula as the forensic pathologist and head honcho at Balthazar's Medico-legal lab.

Dr. Jones headed back to the lab to examine the corpse from the alleyway, leaving Donaldson to interview young Dogberry and Verges about what they had seen when they’d found the body.

At the lab, he and Ursula, his boss, best friend, and forensic pathologist, began to examine the remains. They corroborated Balthazar’s estimation of the victim as being male, between 18 and 25 years in age, and standing at an average height for a man of that age, judging by the length of the femurs. Cause of death would appear to be a single bullet hole to the parietal bone, seemingly close range.

The flesh and blood residue would need to be cleared away carefully before Balthazar and his intern, Claudio Florentine, could examine the bones more closely for any clues. The victim had been wearing pants, but no shirt or other remnants of cloth had been found at the scene or in the plastic sheeting.

Both the sheeting and the clothing were given to Dr. Hobbes for particulate analysis, and he also found maggots and other insect activity on the remains. Balthazar would read his official report later for all the details, but Dr. Hobbes placed time of death between one and three weeks ago. Hopefully he could narrow down time of death a little more.

 Right now, he was paying close attention to particulate evidence, though, because the lack of blood or gore in the alley and the presence of the plastic sheets indicated that the victim had died elsewhere, and been dumped. Hobbes was hoping to find something to point towards a murder scene. He was also very excited to examine the diamond engagement ring that Jones had found in the victim’s hand. Balthazar left him to it.

After cleaning and reassembling the partially shattered skull for Beatrice, Balthazar left the rest of the body to Ursula for flesh retrieval, and left to meet Agent Donaldson at their favorite diner for lunch and to hear what he had learned from the kids who found the body.

                                                                                                 ***

“Find anything yet, Bea?”

Beatrice Duke looked up from her computer screen and rolled her eyes. “Don’t you have some slime to analyze, dickface?”

Dr. Hobbes had just walked into her office, and she was in no mood to deal with his weirdness today. Beatrice was trying to give the body from the alleyway a face.

“Well, I’ve gotten almost everything I can from the plastic, but I still need to examine the ring,” Benedick admitted, sitting next to her in front of her many computer monitors.

“And you’re in my office because?” said Beatrice, annoyed.

“What, I can’t take a break? I’ve been squinting into a microscope all day, that’s not great for the eyes, you know.”

“Take your break somewhere else, I’m working,” snapped Beatrice, turning back to her keyboard. She was close, just a few more facial markers to input and the reconstructive holograph program she’d designed, patent pending, would be able to give her a clear face. She just wished Benedick would leave her alone.

“Haven’t gotten the face yet?” he asked, not leaving. “This our guy here?”

He was pointing to the pale white skull on Bea’s worktable, which had been staring ghoulishly at her with its empty eye sockets. All over the skull were tiny numbered knobs of felt indicating all the important cranial and facial markers needed to reconstruct the dead man’s once-living visage. All Beatrice knew for sure was that the man’s features were definitively Caucasoid.

“Maybe I would have, if you weren’t in here interrupting me! There’s something weird about this guy,” she admitted. “He looks familiar to me somehow.”

“He looks like every other murder victim’s skull I’ve seen,” scoffed Dr. Hobbes.

“Benedick, I’m serious, okay? There’s something about this one. I’ve seen him before.”

“You are amazing, you know that? You’re going to figure out who this guy is, like you always do. You’re going to give him his face back, and I’m going to find the murder scene, and we’ll find out who did this to him, don’t worry,” said Benedick, suddenly serious, realizing how genuinely freaked out she was.

“God, sometimes I hate this job,” said Beatrice, as the skull on her screen spun slowly in a circle, revealing the bullet hole as it rotated.

“Hey, while we wait for the face, want to come back to my Ookey Room?” asked Dr. Hobbes excitedly. “Ursula says I can clean the rest of the alley bones now, and Claudio will be impatient to get them back. I’m going to use my new flesh-eating beetles, it’s amazing how efficiently they can clean bones. Come watch them with me?”

“You are _disgusting_ , you know that?” said Beatrice, wrinkling her nose.

“Fine, more beetles for me,” said Benedick airily. “If you’ll excuse me, fair Beatrice.”

And he stood and headed for the door. Just before his hand found the doorknob, he heard the sound of Beatrice gasping in horror.

“Bea, what-” he started, rushing back to her side.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, Benedick,” she murmured, staring wide-eyed at the completed image on her screen. She wasn’t going to need to run this guy’s face through any databases. Beatrice had found her ID. She felt, somehow, as though she’d known it all along.

“Is that… isn’t that Dr. J’s last intern? The guy who had the job before Claudio?” said Ben after a beat of silence.

At some point, Beatrice had unconsciously grabbed his hand. She held on tightly, nodding. “Yeah. The man in the alley… someone killed Robert Borachio.”


	15. Allons-y

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 15: Clothes. Beatrice ponders what to wear to the big picnic, and finds a shirt she forgot she owned. Disclaimer: I haven't seen much of DW at all, but I know people hate Moffat, so I made feminist Beatrice anti-Moffat. I don't know enough about him or his Doctor Who work to have an opinion, but he doesn't sound great to me, so.

Beatrice is trying to decide what to wear for the picnic this afternoon. Favorite t-shirts one through five are all dirty, she really needs to do laundry soon.

She’s sifting through her dresser drawers, absently picking things up while thinking about how excited and nervous she is for today. It will be really nice to get everyone back together. She’s doing her best to be positive and forgiving, for Hero’s sake, but she’s afraid that things won’t be the same between her and certain people. Hanging out with Pedro and Claudio without ripping their heads off isn’t going to be the easiest, but she’s really working on not holding a grudge. Grudge-holding never worked out well for her before, so it’s probably for the best if she can just go and have fun.

And Benedick is coming, so the day can’t possibly be all bad.

She isn’t sure what they are yet. Their friendship is stronger than it’s ever been, and she also really really likes the new dimension of their relationship that involves plenty of kissing, but they haven’t really talked about labeling this. So he isn’t technically her boyfriend.

She really wants him to be, and for the first time that thought isn’t so terrifying.

Coming out of her reverie, she looks down at the t-shirt in her hands. White, with a bright blue police box on the front. She’d forgotten she owned this TARDIS t-shirt, hadn’t even realized she packed it when she’d moved to Auckland. Beatrice hasn’t been as into Doctor Who recently, what with that sexist prick Moffat ruining everything. And okay, maybe she hasn’t wanted to look like she even remotely enjoys anything that Benedick likes, especially not his favorite TV show.

She looks at the TARDIS shirt, though, and this time instead of thinking about the travesty that was the most recent season, she just thinks about that day when she’d gone over to Ben’s and they’d curled up on his bed and watched almost an entire season’s worth of Ten/Donna episodes on his laptop with the banana drawing taped over the logo. She thinks about how close they were sitting, how his arm had slipped around her shoulders and her head had drooped onto his shoulder and she could feel the warmth of him and hear his racing heartbeat. That was a wonderful afternoon.

She hasn’t seen him yet this weekend at all, and she’s not even dismayed anymore to find she really misses him. Past Beatrice would be absolutely sickened at the way her current self is blushing and grinning to herself over memories of snuggling with him, of all people. Current Beatrice doesn’t care, though.

She puts on the TARDIS t-shirt. When Ben arrives at the Dukes’ house a while later and sees her in the shirt, he positively beams.

“Nice shirt,” he says.

“Thanks, I thought so.”

“Hey, Beatrice? If the TARDIS materialized right now, right here, and the Doctor popped out and invited me to travel space and time with him, and I asked you to come with, what would you do?”

“Wow, I don’t know, do you think we’re ready for that?” Beatrice laughs happily.

“It _is_ kind of a commitment,” Ben admits. “Relationship level, even.”

“I would love to travel space and time with you, Benedick Hobbes. I’d say yes in a heartbeat,” she tells him.

“Good,” he grins again, taking her hand. “Allons-y!”

“You are such a dork,” Beatrice says, but she loves it. _Allons-y_.

And that is how Beatrice Duke officially gets herself a boyfriend.


	16. Teen Angst Bullshit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 16: Birthday. A very non-birthday related, possibly OOC, definitely terrible Heathers AU, because I can. I'm still lagging way behind on LLFL, but I'm still trying. Sorry for the delay. :) Oh, and because it is a Heathers AU, TW for murder, suicide, violence, swearing, etc. I've been really into the musical lately and this ficlet is kind of a cross between the movie verse and the musical verse, with the NMTD characters brought into it.

_Dear diary_ , she writes. _My teen angst bullshit now has a body count._

Hero Duke has done a lot of shit this year, her final year of high school. Gotten in with the Heathers, the most popular clique at Messina High. Gotten kicked back out after vomiting on Heather Winter’s shoes. Snuck into John Donaldson’s bedroom through the window that same night, and enjoyed it immensely. Taken J.D. with her the next day to apologize to Heather Winter, and accidentally left Messina’s most mythic bitch in a sea of smashed coffee table glass with her dark hair spread out around her, after one deadly hangover cure.

Hero has endured a horrible birthday complete with her first boyfriend Claudio accusing her of cheating on him before they broke up, and he and Pedro telling the whole school vicious rumors about what Claudio allegedly caught her doing with Robbie Borachio. She was furious at them, but she’d never wanted this.

She’d never wanted them to die.

J.D. took matters into his own hands, though, and tricked her into helping him kill Claud and Pedro and making it look like suicide out of guilt for their lies. She was a murderer. And her boyfriend wanted to keep killing, wanted to target her cousin Heather Duke next, having underlined some choice passages in her copy of Hamlet to plant at the scene. And he wanted Hero to help him.

So Hero became the dead one. She fooled him, and in his grief he spilled his real plan to her seemingly dead body.

“I have to destroy Messina High, Hero. You belonged with me, and they took you away. Our love is God. They can’t get away with this.”

The word spreads like wildfire through the halls of Messina: Hero Duke is dead.

That, however, doesn’t stop her from following him to the boiler room to stop his plan. No one else deserves to die, and she isn’t about to let them. No matter how much she loved J.D., he’s toxic. He’s a danger to everyone around him, and she’s the only one who can stop him.

“Hey, asshole,” she says, and he looks up from the bomb.

“Hero. This is the only way, you know. The only place all the social cliques can get along is in heaven. You can’t stop me.”

When he gives her the finger, she raises one of his own guns, and shoots his finger off.

She wishes J.D. wasn’t so far gone, because in spite of herself, she still wants to share the end of high school with him. Just not this literally.

When this is all over, she’s going to invite Verges to have a movie night with her again. She’ll put everything behind her, and rebuild her life, and it will be beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, to clarify: Hero as Veronica, John as JD, Meg as Heather Chandler, Beatrice as Heather Duke (bit of a stretch but I had no choice really), Ursula as Heather Macnamara (again, a bit of a stretch, sorry), Claudio and Pedro as Kurt and Ram except with a different reason for their faked suicides because the real one would have been in very very poor taste and I'm sorry for even making you think of it. Yeah, and I couldn't fit Benedick in here anywhere, so he's just off in the background somewhere I suppose. And Verges as Martha Dunnstock I guess.


	17. Claudio, After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 17: Song. Another Claudio fic, because literally no one ever writes about Claudio, and I find him interesting. Claudio moves on, checks himself, shapes up, and ends up relatively happy. People change. I had to read Measure for Measure for class last semester and it also has a Claudio in it, so the headcanon here is that it's the same Claudio a little later in his life. Yay Shakespeare references! I still don't condone anything Claudio does in MAAN/NMTD, because he was terrible and sexist, but he was also (only in the NMTD version of course) a kid who had plenty of room to grow up and change. And if we can redeem John Donaldson, we can let Claudio live. And I didn't know what to name the toddler, so I just didn't. Sorry if this sucks. I feel kind of weird about it but it's all I have for today, I don't know. I guess it's what I hope for Claudio. I hope he doesn't stay an asshole forever.

Claudio's friends forgive him for what he did, but nothing is the same, afterward. He and Hero make that video saying they're still friends, but he can tell they're not.

 Not for long, anyway, because he can't stand the guilt and she gets sick of his walking on eggshells around her. The eggshells crack, and they decide not to see each other at all anymore.

 

His last year at Messina's a lonely one. He knows he deserves to be alone, but it still sucks. All his friends have graduated and gone off to uni. He isn't really all that surprised when he loses touch with them, either. He can feel the distance widening between him and his old group.

He keeps in touch with Ben for a while, but that fizzles out as Ben's uni life gets busier. Claud stays in touch with Pedro for longer, bonded like they were by shared guilt. But Pedro wants to put it all behind him, and has a busy life too, so they only talk very rarely.

 

University breathes fresh life into Claudio. He goes away, far away, and he learns and grows a lot. He learns to cope with his insecurity and manage his anger and jealous tendencies, and he continues working on the way he treats women. He takes a women and gender studies course and learns a lot. He isn’t perfect, but he’s better. Claudio makes a new group of friends, and this time it’s easier because he isn’t the only one who’s new around here. It makes him worry a bit less, knowing that no one else has a clue what they’re doing either. Even though he’s far from home, he does keep in touch with his older sister Isabella. They were never close, but now they get along a lot better.

 

Uni is where he eventually meets Juliet. He’s worried at first, petrified of messing things up again, worried that he really is just rotten inside and doomed to hurt anyone he dates, even though he’s been really trying to be a better person.

When he tells Juliet everything, she still likes him. She helps him remember that there’s more to life than worrying so much what everyone else thinks of him, worrying that everything is always just about to fall apart. She shares things with him too, she has problems and worries and flaws too, and it’s good to be able to just talk to someone. It’s rare for him to find anyone this easy to talk to.

His anxiety and insecurity certainly don’t go away, and maybe they never will. But with new friends and a new life, he’s doing better. He’s long since stopped thinking about the Hero thing, stopped feeling guilty and started trying to move on. When he does think about Hero, it's to remind himself of his promise to never fuck up like that again, to never treat other people that way again.

There’s always drama. That, unfortunately, did not stay behind at Messina High. But he gets through it, with his friends and Isabella to lean on, and he learns to take things with a grain of salt, and his relationship with Juliet lasts. It isn’t easy or simple, it sure as hell isn’t a fairy tale. But he’s almost sort of ready to try to be happy again.

 

A few years go by. He and Juliet get married, and their beautiful son is the ring bearer in their wedding, a joyful day. Claudio isn’t even nervous.

One evening, Juliet sends him out to pick up a few things from the store while she tries to get their excitable toddler ready for bed.

 

When he turns into the produce section he’s met with a familiar voice: Hero Duke, singing softly under her breath along with the cheesy pop song the store is playing, and when she picks up an apple from a shelf, he sees an engagement ring glittering on her finger. She looks happy.

They exchange smiles and how-are-yous in the checkout line, each wishing the other well before going their separate ways. There’s no tension, no grudges. The past is the past, and they’ve left all that behind.


	18. Race You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 18: Shopping. Bea and Ben get inventive with their dates when they have to hide the fact that they're back together because of the no-relationships rule at the flat. LLL-verse, just like Toast and Fake Not-Dating. I couldn't think of anything for the Shopping prompt and then I saw a textsfrommessina post on tumblr involving shopping carts being pushed places and this idea clicked. (i don't know anything about shopping cart races, I'm sorry, I got nothing for this prompt without this weird idea).  
> (Also, note: I just realized that Beatrice would probably just stay at her parents' house in Wellington, unless their move to Australia was permanent and they sold it? Okay, maybe I'll assume that they sold it, so that her staying somewhere else makes sense? I don't know, I just thought the stargazing thing was a cute idea, so do me a favor and just pretend that makes any sense at all. Same goes for her sneaking into the flat, because it seriously makes no sense, oops.)

 Beatrice has either impeccable or awful timing, getting into town to visit and make up literally the day after Ben makes the agreement with his flatmates not to date. They haven’t spoken for a week after the argument they had, but as soon as she shows up at the flat door, all is forgiven. Her lips on his after all this time immediately banish the thought of the stay-single rule, and from that minute the rule is broken.

His housemates don’t know that he’s breaking it, though. Which means that Bea and Ben have to get very inventive with their date nights.

She sneaks into the flat on more than a few occasions, but the rest of the time they go out. Once they drive to a faraway beach where no one they know will find them. Once they sneak out onto the roof of the place Beatrice is staying in, and stargaze and make out a lot. A couple times they just drive to the furthest-away movie theatre that’s still close enough that they won’t be gone too suspiciously long. Boring, maybe, but still a date night that the others won’t find out about.

The weirdest secret date, though, is definitely the time they end up, slightly buzzed, in an empty grocery store parking lot and challenge each other to shopping cart races like a couple of wild kids. They laugh so hard they can barely breathe, Ben knocks over his cart and badly skins a knee, and Beatrice scrapes her elbow. They narrowly avoid getting caught by store management somehow, and sneak back to Beatrice’s temporary place to nurse their wounds and get in some more alone time. It’s the most fun they’ve had since this whole fake-breakup thing began.

It’s extraordinarily difficult to act like they hate each other again after that night.


	19. Dear Dickface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 19: Letter. In which Beatrice writes a letter to Benedick. And anyone who's still reading this fic now that I've become so bad at updating discovers why I don't write fanfiction in the first-person point of view. I like how this came out, but I don't think it feels enough like Beatrice, she's easier to write in third-person. Anyway, enjoy! :)

Dear Dickface,

Did you know Ursula and Meg are writing each other letters to keep in touch now that Meg’s away at university? Like actual proper snail mail letters, handwritten. Isn’t that cool? I’ve mostly been using Facebook and text messages to stay in touch with them myself, but I was bored and had some free time, and I know you’re probably in class right now, so I decided to just write this to you! You know, as opposed to texting you in class and humiliating myself again by making Way To Tell You start playing in front of everyone there, like last time. I can’t believe it’s still your ringtone. My dignity is forever compromised by the risk of everyone you know hearing my awful singing, but I’m actually kind of glad you haven’t changed it.

Is this weird, this letter thing? I’m sorry if this is weird, but you’re just going to have to deal with it if it is, because I kind of think it’s fun. It’s like a conversation. I do wish it wasn’t so one-sided, but maybe you’ll write me back sometime? You’d better.

This is just kind of stream-of-consciousness, sorry. I don’t know what to even say. So, ummm, how are you? I hope you still like it there, and that the flat is working out, and classes are at least mildly interesting or whatever. Hey, say hi to Pedro and Balth for me!

Things are fine here. I didn’t expect taking a gap year here in Auckland to be so boring, honestly. Still no idea what I want to do next year, but you know that. There isn’t much I can write you that you don’t already know, I guess. Oh, Hero just got home, she wants me to come help her make cookies or something. I wish you could come over and help me steal fingerfuls of cookie dough and be generally obnoxious and stuff. Hero would probably kick us out of the kitchen, but at least we could wait for the cookies together.

Okay, I guess I should go. I’ll talk to you later, Ben. Don’t tear yourself up too much over being away from me, I know it’s awfully difficult to be deprived of my charm and quick wit like this. I promise to continue to tease you mercilessly, it’s too much fun to stop anyway. ;)

Love,

_Beatrice_

P.S. I don’t miss you. Not even a little bit. At least, no more than reason. I almost forgot to say it this time.

P.S.S. Is it too cheesy to end a letter with ‘I love you’? Yes, definitely too cheesy.

P.S.S.S. I do love you, though.

P.S.S.S.S. Is there a limit to the number of postscripts one can use? Because I need one more to tell you that if I lose out on cookie dough because of this, I am never writing you a letter again. Anyway, bye!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just have a headcanon that during their college years, when they're long-distance, Bea and Ben end every correspondence (calls, text conversations, Skype, letters) by saying they don't miss each other. It started as a last vestige of their denial of their feelings, but eventually it becomes a tradition because it makes it a little easier to deal with how much they actually do miss each other. I wrote a ficlet about it, I've been meaning to post that. It was part of the three sentence fic meme I did on tumblr a while back, I did several Beadick ones, two Pedrazars and a Donalduke. Maybe I should post them in a collection similar to this fic, on here. I think I might. Anyway, yeah, explanations.


	20. The Crystal in the Crime Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 20: Words. Part Three of the Bones AU. Pedro and Balthazar discuss the case, then return to the lab, where Ursula and Benedick have some disturbing new evidence to share. Amidst it all, Balthazar and Pedro are in denial about the unresolved sparks between them. The usual Bones AU warnings will apply. Also if I messed up any of the science with the evidence, that's my fault. I'm just using things I've picked up from the show and hoping I'm getting it relatively correct.

Balthazar hung up his cell phone and took a deep breath. He couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard.

“Are you okay, Bones?” Pedro asked, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to look concernedly at his partner.

They were in the car on their way back from lunch. Pedro hadn’t discovered any useful information from the witnesses on the scene, so he had some free time to watch Balth work and to be on hand in case any of the squints found any new leads for him.

Which one of them definitely just had.

“That was Beatrice,” said Balth, shaken. “The victim was Robbie Borachio, Pedro.”

“Your old intern? Shit, Bones, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“Keep your eyes on the road, Donaldson. I’m- I think I’m fine. It’s a shock, I mean no one at the Jeffersonian liked him much, I had to fire him because he kept coming in late and drunk and- oh my god, am I a suspect? Because I let him go?”

“Of course not, Balthazar,” said Pedro firmly. “As soon as Hobbes gets a definite time of death, we’ll be able to alibi you out anyway. Don’t worry about it. Let’s just find who did this.”

Pedro allowed himself one more worried glance over at Dr. Jones before turning his eyes back to his driving, his jaw set and his expression grim. He was furious that a killer would dare come near the Jeffersonian, and he was damned if he’d let this sonovabitch get anywhere near Bones. He didn’t know why he was so worried, but it was difficult, as they drove, not to let his eyes dart back towards his partner.

Neither one of them said anything else for the remainder of the drive.

                                                                                        ***

Not finding his intern on the platform, Balthazar marched to Dr. Hobbes’ office, where the excitable entomologist was observing a large spider in a tank as he waited for results on the mass spec to come back. Pedro was close on Balth’s heels, and in near-unison the two men demanded, “Anything new?”

Benedick looked up from the tarantula and nodded. “Besides the obvious news about the ID, I have found a few interesting things this morning, now that you ask. How was lunch, by the way?” He raised his eyebrows, noting the tenseness of Pedro’s shoulders and how close he was standing to Dr. Jones.

“Never mind lunch,” said Agent Donaldson. “What did you find?”

“We know why the victim was discovered without a shirt. He had a sexual encounter shortly before he died. Evidence of telling bodily fluids on the jeans, so Ursula ran DNA, and she says there’s not enough evidence to determine who he was actually with, unfortunately. Whoever he was sleeping with is either the killer, or one of the last people to see Borachio alive. I have some particulate results I’m waiting on, from the pants and the plastic sheets, and that should narrow down the possible murder scene. Insect activity narrows my death window, I’d say he’s been dead for approximately two weeks, but Ursula says he was stored in a warm environment that facilitated the acceleration of decomp. And, I found this.”

Benedick pulled up an image on his computer and turned the screen so the other two could see it- a clear partial fingerprint on the surface of the diamond from Robbie’s hand.

“I pulled the print and gave it to Beatrice, and she’s going to run it, and when she does, we’ll know exactly who did this. And I believe that makes me, King of the Lab!” He pumped a fist in the air in delight over his self-bestowed title, and Balthazar and Pedro exchanged a look.

“Which reminds me, where’s Claudio? Shouldn’t he be working, so he’ll have a chance at stealing Your Majesty’s thunder?” said Pedro sarcastically.

“Yes, we were looking for Mr. Florentine just now, he seems to have left his workstation,” said Balth.

“I haven’t seen him since this morning when we both got here,” shrugged Dr. Hobbes. “Maybe he took a long lunch or got sick or something.  And you know what happened with him and Hero Duke from Paleontology, he might just be sulking about that somewhere. He’ll turn up.”

“Well I suppose I have some work to do, then,” said Dr. Jones. “If you see Mr. Florentine, remind him that he’s working towards a PhD in Forensic Anthropology, not in Paleontology. Or in Pining for that matter.”

“Hey, that was actually kind of funny, Bones, way to go,” Pedro laughed, and Balth just shot him a glare before the both of them left Dr. Hobbes to his work.

                                                                                        ***

Donaldson followed Jones up to the forensics platform, where a metal autopsy table held the freshly cleaned bones of Mr. Borachio. Ursula had taken the flesh samples back to her office to examine more closely.

Jones did his best to compartmentalize, not allowing himself to think of the body as anything but exactly that- a body, that required his expert eye. He had to do this, it was his job, and he couldn’t do his job if he allowed himself to feel sad or guilty or afraid about Robbie’s death. He had to get justice for the unpleasant squintern. Pedro would be interviewing Robbie’s girlfriend, Meg, who worked in the History department of the museum, and Balthazar knew he couldn’t think about poor Meg if he wanted to stay focused. She would be devastated. Balthazar put her out of his mind, focusing in on the bones.

It was very hard to concentrate with Donaldson there, leaning against the railing of the platform in his neatly pressed FBI standard black suit, his hair slicked back fashionably, his eyes on the back of Jones’s head.

“There’s- uh, I believe there’s scoring present on these bones,” Balthazar said, surprised by his own faltering voice.

“Scoring?” asked Pedro, leaning in close to see the marks himself. He was now so near to Balthazar that Balth could feel the agent’s breath tickling his cheek. He tried not to glance at Agent Donaldson’s lips, so close to his own, and failed miserably.

“Yes, scoring,” said Balth, straightening up and moving away to the other end of the platform, hiding his blush. “It would indicate that the victim’s body was dragged, and quite laboriously, by someone who wasn’t strong enough to lift him properly. I’ll have Dr. Hobbes swab for particulates, might help narrow down the, uh, the murder scene.”

“Right, the murder scene, good,” said Pedro, apparently also slightly flustered, although Balthazar didn’t notice that part. They stood there for a moment, awkwardly avoiding eye contact.

Then, suddenly, Ursula appeared, striding onto the platform looking worried, Dr. Hobbes on her heels.

“Dr. Jones, Donaldson, good. We had another break in the case. I was checking in on Beatrice to see if she got a hit on the print yet. I think she’s getting lunch now, but while she was gone the results came back, and you’re not going to like it much,” Ursula said.

“Neither is Bea,” muttered Hobbes darkly.

Ursula cleared her throat. “The print is a match for another Jeffersonian employee, in the Paleontology department. Balthazar, it’s Hero. She’s in the system because she works here, and it’s a government facility, and, well, Hero’s fingerprint is on that diamond ring.”

“And I got the particulate analysis back from the mass spec. There was a kind of mold present in the plastic sheeting,” said Hobbes. “The mold has been spreading through one particular neighborhood, right here.”

He’d pulled up a map of the city on a nearby monitor, with one area highlighted. Balthazar recognized it immediately. Beatrice and Hero’s apartment was right smack in the center of the mold zone.

“Oh my god,” he murmured. “There’s no way, there’s absolutely no-”

He was cut off by the ringing of Donaldson’s phone. When he answered it, Agent Donaldson’s face grew even tighter and more serious.

“We have another body. As of now, none of you goes anywhere alone.”

“Pedro, what-” Ursula started.

“This one wasn’t in nearly as bad shape as Robbie was, and he had ID on him. Bones, you’re down another intern. Somebody just killed Claudio Florentine.”

The three scientists stared back at Donaldson in stunned horror. No one could find any words.


	21. Falling Slowly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 21: Food. A Pedrazar Once AU that has nothing to do with food, oops. The song referenced is Falling Slowly from the musical movie Once.

Pedro tried to invite Balthazar back to his place, if only for a bit of breakfast food, but Balth was probably right not to come. They both knew what it would turn into, and Balthazar had decided that he owed it to Tony to try to make things work between them.

He had promised to come over later that afternoon, and though Pedro was hurt that he didn’t show, he wasn’t surprised.

Pedro went round to Balthazar’s place one last time to say goodbye before leaving for London. He too had some unfinished business with his ex, and he knew what he had to do. Still, he couldn’t help wishing he was running away to London with Balthazar instead.

Sometimes you meet the right person at the wrong time, and sometimes two people miss their moment. When Balthazar’s mother told Pedro her son was at work, Pedro knew at that moment that he wasn’t going to get to say goodbye.

He had time before his flight, so with his guitar on his back, he foolishly spent it walking the cobblestone streets of Balthazar’s route, hoping to find the lithe flower-peddling musician who'd stolen a bit of his heart. He found himself outside the music store where they’d sung their first duet, and in the window he could see the beautiful piano Balth had played that day.

After everything that had happened, after all the messing up Pedro had done, the least he could do was give Balth something to remember him by. A few moments later, he left the store, smiling at the thought of the delighted look on Balthazar’s face, tomorrow when the piano would be delivered. Pedro hoped Balth would think of him when he played on it from now on.

They wouldn’t see each other again, but the time they’d shared was more than enough, and Pedro would treasure it always. He walked away from the music shop and towards home to pick up his things for the airport. All the while, he sang under his breath, the song they’d first shared together.

“Falling slowly, sing your melody, I’ll sing along…”

He could almost hear Balthazar’s voice in his ear, clear and joyful, doing just that.


	22. Baths and Houses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 22: Bath. Bea and Ben discuss bathtubs, houses, and living arrangements. ;) Set at some indeterminate point in the future.

“Can you imagine us living in a huge house like that?” said Beatrice conversationally as they walked past a large, fancy house, hand in hand.

“What would we even do with all that space, though? Ooh, what if the size of the house corresponds to the size of the bath?” said Ben.

“What?”

“You know, like what if their baths are those huge fancy expensive ones? That would be awesome, right?”

Beatrice thought about that and grinned. “Oh, we could fill the huge bath with pillows and still have twice as much room as yours has now, very nice.”

“Or we could go the classic route and just fill it with water,” teased Ben, waggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up,” said Beatrice, swatting him on the arm, but she was still smiling. “It would definitely be nice to have our own space, though. A little more privacy…”

“Are you saying…?”

“We should move in together! It’s the next natural step, and we spend so much time at each other’s places it’s almost like we might as well-”

“Okay," said Ben seriously.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, absolutely. I would love to live together with you. Even if we have to settle for a normal-sized bath.”

“It’s decided then,” said Beatrice happily, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I wonder if that giant house is on the market?”

“Oh, very funny.”

"I am very funny, thank you very much."

"No, love. You're not."

"Just for that, we're moving into a place that only has showers."

"Nooooo! Anything but that!"


	23. She's A Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 23: Hero. John apologizes to Hero at the picnic.

“Hero, can I talk to you a minute?” John murmurs in her ear, and she rises and follows him just far enough away from the group to be out of their earshot. The hard part is done: he got her to talk to him, after what an ass he’s been. Now John just has to explain himself.

It had been hard enough deciding to come back, knowing the shit he’d get from his family for running, for scaring them like that even though he’d only gone to his grandmother’s house, so it wasn’t like he was ever in danger. It had been weird enough hugging Pedro just now, hearing the relief in his voice when he said he was glad to see John. But facing Hero again is something else.

“How are you, John?” she asks, and he can tell she really does want to know, and he feels like shit because he’s just put this girl through months of emotional pain and _she’s_ concerned about _him_. He doesn’t understand it.

“I don’t really know,” he admits. “Are you okay? I heard you were sick.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Hero tells him, looking at her feet, the wind blowing her long hair into her face.

He’s known her for ages, ever since he first came to Messina, a lonely kid who’d just lost his mum, who’d been forced into a new family that he didn’t really belong in, and she’d been kind to him. How could he have been so stupid, to repay her the way he has? How could he think hurting everyone else in his life was the answer to his problems? He has a lot of work to do, to be okay again, and this is the first step.

“Hero, I’m sorry. That’s all I wanted to say, and I know there’s no excuse for what I did. I just wanted you to know I’m sorry, and I’m really glad that you’re all right.” He manages to get the words out, then looks away, up at the cloudless blue sky, one hand in his hair, waiting for her response.

“I appreciate that, John, thank you. If you ever want to talk or anything…”

“I’d like that, Hero.” He meets her eyes for the first time and they share a small smile, and John does feel a little better after that.

They go back to the picnic and John spends most of his time rolling his eyes at the antics of Pedro and his friends, and catching up with his brother. Once or twice, his eyes find Hero again. He can’t believe she can sit here next to Claudio, near to Pedro and himself, not holding a grudge, not hating them for what they did. There’s still sadness behind her eyes, but whenever he looks over at her, she’s smiling. She really is a hero. He’s in awe of her.


	24. Lactose Intolerant Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 24: Pizza. Beatrice hides in Hero's room for a while during the pizza party and sulks about the whole Ben thing. Featuring Lactose Intolerant Beatrice, my favorite headcanon I've ever come up with for NMTD. I don't know if they have ricemilk chocolate in New Zealand, but it's actually pretty good, so I gave Beatrice some to help curb her craving for the cake. That cake makes me sad too, I wish my lactose intolerant self could eat a piece, but alas. Although actually despite what this fic says I bet I'd still get sicker from dairy pizza than I would from the cake. They're both a bad idea though haha. EDIT: it was a Dalek cake, not a TARDIS cake. My bad. Still Doctor Who related.

She’s going to _kill_ Hero for this.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that Hero invited all their friends over for a party centered around a delicious food that Beatrice’s stupid digestive system can’t even properly process, she also had to invite that _dickface_. Into their _house_. And he’s actually being nice for once. It’s incredibly creepy.

Anyway, she’s hiding up in Hero’s room, checking Twitter absently on her cousin’s computer, while hiding from both Benedick and the unbelievably delicious-looking chocolate Dalek cake Hero baked for the evening.

Which of course probably has more dairy than the pizza, dammit. 

Beatrice’s goat cheese and organic crust personal pizza was pretty good, but all she has for dessert up here is half a ricemilk chocolate bar which definitely won’t be as good as the cake. It would kind of defeat the purpose of not having dairy pizza if she turns around and has a piece of that cake, no matter how desperately she wants it, so she’s holding out her willpower by staying away from the cake entirely. It makes for a handy excuse to avoid _certain people_ at any rate.

He’s just such a cocky, arrogant asshole and he always has been, and now he’s messing with her head by giving her compliments and smiles and trying to start civil conversations and shit. It’s reminding her unpleasantly of when they were friends, and she has a strict rule not to think about that, and the fact that she’s still thinking about it is really starting to piss her off. She doesn’t miss him. She absolutely does _not_ , and why does he think he can just waltz in here asking if she does, assuming she does? Just no.

Beatrice switches the tab to YouTube, and pulls up an old Benedict Cumberbatch interview to watch. She takes a bite of her ricemilk chocolate and allows herself to sulk just a little bit.

She doesn’t think about Ben’s adorably excited face when he saw that damned Dalek cake, though. She definitely doesn’t stifle a laugh remembering his declaration that, “Hero, I am going to marry this cake. This cake is my one true love. It’s meant to be.” She _so_ isn’t smiling at that memory right now.

She would blame her smile on Sexy Cumberbatch, except for the fact that it takes her a full minute and a half to notice that the video’s over already. She’s been too lost in thought to pay attention to it at all.

All she knows is that she hates pizza, and cake, and _dairy_ \- almost as much as she hates Ben.

Given the choice, in fact, she might actually prefer to eat dairy on purpose and get sick to her stomach, than to spend one more _second_ around Ben and his creepiness. Who vlogs in someone else’s bath, for crying out loud? And she isn’t even going _near_ that “show us your face, love” comment. _Eurgh._

Hero will be looking for her before long. Beatrice pops the last square of chocolate into her mouth and marches downstairs to meet her doom.

Worst pizza party ever.


	25. The Crystal in the Crime Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 25: Coffee. Agent Donaldson and Dr. Jones interrogate the prime suspect in the murders of Claudio Florentine and Robert Borachio, as the evidence against her begins to pile up.

Hero Duke was crying when Agent Donaldson and Dr. Jones entered the interrogation room. The horrible FBI coffee they’d given her sat untouched and stone-cold in front of her, but it didn’t matter. They already had her fingerprints, and there was nothing to compare DNA to yet.

Donaldson saw Jones’s face fall at the sight of his friend so distraught, but the seasoned agent knew that no matter how upsetting the situation was, he couldn’t let himself feel sympathy for the young woman before them. The evidence was pretty damning. And after what John had just told him, Pedro was almost certain that Hero was their killer.

“Now, Miss Duke, tell us. Where were you yesterday afternoon, at approximately one p.m.?” Pedro began the interrogation, sitting down beside his partner, opposite their suspect. She ran a shaking finger absently along the shining silver tabletop, trying to hold back tears as she spoke.

“I… I told you, I was on my way to meet Beatrice for a late lunch, I didn’t do anything, please, Pedro!”

“You’re lying to me, Hero. Beatrice admitted that you never showed up to the café you were planning to go to. Her receipts show that she ate alone, and witnesses in the café confirm you were never there. Where were you?” Pedro demanded.

“I… I had some filing to do in the Paleontology department, Beatrice knew I was going to be late. I had to finish up, and then my heel broke, and I had to go home to get a n-new pair of shoes. I walked there, it isn’t too far. You know I didn’t do this, please!”

“Miss Duke,” said Pedro calmly. “You have no alibi for the time of Claudio Florentine’s murder. You just had a nasty breakup, and you were upset, angry. You just wanted to hurt him, like he hurt you, isn’t that right?”

“NO!” Hero screamed. “I didn’t! I didn’t do this!”

“Hero,” said Balthazar gently, hating that he had to do this. “What about two weeks ago, the morning of Thursday the 19th? Do you remember where you were that day?”

Hero flushed. “I… I had s-stayed the night with a friend. Wh-when I got home, Claudio was waiting for me on the front steps of my building. He… he was so angry. I didn’t understand why, until…”

“Until he told you he knew everything, right, Miss Duke?” cut in Pedro. “Claudio knew that you stayed that night with the man you were sleeping with. You were cheating on him, weren’t you? With Robert Borachio?”

Hero, beside herself with grief and terror, could only shake her head, a vehement “no”. She gasped for breath, clutching her chest, white-faced. “I…I never….”

“Pedro!” hissed Balthazar. “This is insane, look at her! You need to stop this.”

“I’m doing my job, Balthazar,” Pedro answered, glaring, then turned his attention back to Hero.

“Miss Duke, I know exactly what’s going on, all right? I know you’re friends with my brother, John Donaldson. He works nights as a security guard at the Jeffersonian, and your cousin has told us that you often stay late at work to finish cataloguing your findings, is that correct?”

Hero nodded, wiping at her reddened eyes.

“John told us everything, Hero. He gave a statement, saying that you told him about the affair. You told him that Claudio asked you to marry him, but you didn’t want that, did you? You didn’t want to be tied down, and Robbie and Claudio are both jealous types. I think Robbie found out about Claudio and threatened to tell him what you’d been doing, so you slept with him one last time, two weeks ago, and then you shot him and left him to rot in that alley. I think you forgot to get your engagement ring sized, and it fell off your hand and onto the corpse. But you left behind a fingerprint, Hero. We can tie you to the scene. And then, once you had disposed of Mr. Borachio, you met your fiancé on your front stoop, and he saw the ring was missing. He figured it out, about the affair, and you couldn’t risk him leaving you or telling anyone that perfect innocent Hero from Paleontology was a cheater. And then, yesterday, you were on your way to lunch when Claudio confronted you again. He knew it was you who killed Borachio, Hero. He knew everything, and you couldn’t let him live.”

“No, no!” insisted Hero, desperate. Balthazar looked, horror-stricken, from his partner to his accused friend. It all added up, but it couldn’t be possible, could it? And then, Pedro’s phone rang.

He stepped to the corner of the room and spoke softly into the phone for a moment, before saying “thanks” and hanging up.

“That was an FBI crime scene squad, calling from your apartment building, Miss Duke. There was blood and bits of flesh present in the janitor’s closet in the basement of the building. And they found a gun at the bottom of the Dumpster out back. I think, when ballistics comes back, we’re going to see that the bullets in both of your boyfriends’ brains will match that firearm perfectly. Isn't that right, Miss Duke?”

Hero sat there in horrified silence, tears still streaming down her face.

Balthazar reached out and took her hand. Pedro turned away in disgust, leaving the interrogation room. As he went, he called back over his shoulder, “Miss Duke, if I were you, I’d invest in a good lawyer.”


	26. The Crystal in the Crime Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 26: Dancing. The penultimate installment in my Bones AU! Beatrice and Benedick share a quiet moment in her office, and the case is nearly cracked.

Back at the Jeffersonian, Beatrice was hiding in her office, running the schematics of the murders over and over and over again, trying to find something to exonerate her cousin. So far, she’d run several scenarios, and while Hero was considerably shorter than both dead men, it still seemed possible that she might have been able to…

She couldn’t have. There was absolutely no way that Hero Duke was a murderer. Beatrice refused to believe it, and she was going to prove her cousin’s innocence if she herself died trying. Suddenly she couldn’t even look at the 3D images anymore. Slamming the button on her tablet that shut down the simulator, she threw the tablet onto her desk with a clatter and sank down into her chair, her head in her hands. How had this happened?

One minute, Robbie and Claudio were living, breathing, healthy people, and now? Now all that was left of each man was a pile of lifeless bones. She wished more than anything that those bones could speak, could tell her exactly who had done this, because Hero must have been framed, it’s the only explanation. But Beatrice’s language was Art- well, and Computers. Only Dr. Jones knew how to make the bones speak, how to see in them the truth of a person’s life and their death. There was no more data to plug into her computer. Beatrice had never in her life felt so useless. She couldn’t even manage to hold back her tears, at least not for long.

“…Beatrice? Are you okay?”

She let out a sigh, mingled exasperation and relief and fury. Who else in the entire Jeffersonian _would_ end up walking in here, right when she least wanted company? Of course.

“My best friend was just arrested for murder!” she snapped, her voice thick with the tears, not looking up, hoping against hope that the world’s most annoying entomologist would leave her the hell alone.

“I know. I’m so sorry, Bea.” He did the exact opposite of what she’d hoped for, and pulled up the other chair. Just the other day they’d been seated here, amiably bickering away over the evidence that was now about to get her cousin thrown in jail. “It’s going to be okay, don’t cry…”

“What do you care if I want to cry? Go play with your bugs, Hobbes. Unless you have new evidence for Hero, I’m not interested. How am I supposed to prove that Hero’s…” and she had to take a deep breath to regain her composure as much as possible. He didn’t give her the chance to finish the sentence.

“I have every particulate sample possible running through the GC mass spectrometer right now, Beatrice. I’ve examined every facet of that diamond a thousand times. I’m still working on narrowing the murder scenes down, but I promise you, I’ll do everything I can. Hero’s my friend, too, and I know she’d never do this. We’ll find the truth, okay?”

“The engagement part was true, you know that?” said Bea hollowly. “Claudio proposed. Hero was so excited, but she lost the ring before she could show it to me. That’s why I didn’t recognize it when we found Robbie. And now everyone’s going to think she cheated on Claudio and killed both of them to cover it up! It’s sick!”

“Claud… I told you how Claud told me what he thought Hero was doing, why he treated her so awfully before he broke it off. It has to have something to do with that, with her birthday dinner and what happened,” said Benedick, and his own eyes looked suspiciously glassy. “He was my best friend. He was an asshole, yeah, but... Last week we were doing experiments in the Ookey Room and now…”

“Now he’s a fucking skeleton in Balthazar’s workroom,” spat Beatrice. “Yeah. I was furious when he hurt Hero, but I never wanted this. And Robbie… they were both shits, but they didn’t deserve to be erased like that, no one does. And now whoever did this is trying to get to Hero too, and it’s working! I can’t fucking _believe_ Pedro arrested her, God!”

“What can I do?” Benedick asked, gently taking her hand. “Tell me what to do, how to fix all this. I’ll go check the mass spec again, maybe there’s something new-”

“No, stay.”

“What-”

“Just tell me you didn’t take me seriously?”

“Take you- _what_?”

“When Claudio hurt Hero before, I asked if you’d help me kill him for it. You didn’t take me seriously, right?” She was still holding onto his hand, and as she asked the question, she felt his fingers tighten against her skin.

“I’m afraid my only victims are those poor, squished birds in the Jeffersonian parking lot, love,” he laughed, and even though it was mostly humorless, the attempt at comedy did _almost_ make her smile.

“I would have, though,” he admitted sadly. “If that’s really what you- I would do anything for you, Beatrice. Anything you need… I’m your guy.”

“In that case, do, uh, do you want to hang out in here a while? Just until the mass spec results come back, I mean. I can show you the murder schematics I’m working on?” she asked, following an old impulse, hiding a fresh blush in her cheeks.

“You, actually inviting me to spend more time in your office? I didn’t see that one coming,” he laughed again, a little more genuine.

“Don’t get used to it,” she quipped, and picked up her luckily unbroken tablet to turn the computer back on.

While she queued up the different scenarios, Benedick absently slipped his arm around her, and she leaned into him without thinking. Muscle memory.

The last time they’d been this physically close had been way back when the whole Squint Squad was new to the Jeffersonian. Beatrice and Ben had clashed immediately, but in a friendly way, and then bantering over the evidence had turned into spending every spare minute in each other’s offices, and sneaking off to the Ancient Egypt storeroom during lunch breaks (at least until the morbidly embarrassing day when Ursula had found out, and then they’d had to be a little more secretive and a little less all over each other at work.)

They’d even danced a slow dance at one memorable Jeffersonian Christmas party, and Balth and Pedro had teased them mercilessly when they’d been caught under the mistletoe- which was nothing to how hard she laughed when she and Ben had gotten the FBI agent and the anthropologist neatly tricked into standing beneath a sprig of their own. Balthazar could insist all he wanted that it was like kissing his brother, but Beatrice knew all along that there was something else to the partners’ unstoppable dynamic.

Anyway, like she’d known it would, her relationship with Benedick crashed and burned, and they both went on separate sabbaticals for a while, and when they’d come back, everything had been weird between them. Sitting here with her head on his shoulder was the least weird she’d felt around him in a long time, not that she’d ever admit it. It was so nice, she almost forgot about the murders playing out in front of them as she leaned even closer.

And then Ursula, clearing her throat to make her presence known, sidled into the room with a sheaf of papers in her hand, and a distraught-looking Meg Winter at her heels.

Bea and Ben leapt apart as Bea hit pause on the computer simulation again.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said Ursula, and there was a hint of knowing happiness in her serious tone at seeing them so close again. “But the mass spec results are in, and so are the tox screens, and Ms. Winter has some evidence for Donaldson.”

Meg stepped up first. “I- I knew Robbie wasn’t always faithful to me, but the last morning, before he… it was me. He was with me that night, not with Hero, I swear. I don’t know what else I can do, but I want to help her, she’s my friend.”

Beatrice pulled Meg into a hug. “I am so, so sorry, Meg. About everything,” she murmured, and Meg nodded and hugged her back for a moment.

Meanwhile, Benedick was reading through the mass spec results with a furrowed brow, scanning the lists of chemicals for any red flags. Both men appeared to contain similar chemicals. Then suddenly, all eyes were on Ben as he let out a gasp.

“Oh my God, this combination of chemicals… Beatrice, the crime scene team said they found bullets and blood and tissue in a closet, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“The enclosed space would account for the close range shooting in Robbie’s case, wouldn’t it? And this, right here, there’s more of the mold present all over Claudio’s remains.” His voice faltered when he said his friend’s name. Beatrice laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, and he took a deep breath and continued.

“Can you play that last scenario for the second victim again, love?” he asked, and she pulled up the model and clicked play.

When the killer was Hero’s height, the trajectory for the bullet placed it closer to the neck, but Claudio had been shot at close range in the parietal bone, just like Robbie. But when the killer’s height was increased, the scenario fell into place.

An exhausted, gloomy Dr. Jones walked into the room at that moment, just as his three colleagues simultaneously gasped at their results. When they explained the evidence to Balthazar, his jaw dropped.

The close-range shots, the chemical cocktail, the tiny, blood-soaked janitor’s closet- suddenly, everything fell into place.

“Oh, my God, I know who the killer is!” shouted Dr. Jones. “But why- oh no. Oh God, no. Pedro!”

“Balthy, slow down, what’s going on?” Ursula asked, concerned, but Balthazar was already racing from the room.

“Pedro’s in danger, it all comes back to Pedro! I have to warn him, I have to get to him before-”

But the Squint Squad and Meg couldn’t hear the rest. Balthazar was already gone.

                                                                                                                                      ***

Pedro stumbled back to his apartment that evening, while elsewhere in D.C. the squints were cracking the case. Furious at Balthazar’s unwillingness to see what was right in front of his face, and exhausted after the argument they’d just had over Hero’s obvious guilt, Pedro didn’t have full command of his army-trained observation skills as he threw himself into a chair at his tiny kitchen table.

If he had, maybe he could have stopped the intruder. But he didn’t know anyone was there, until he felt the cool, hard press of a gun at the back of his perfectly coiffed head.

And by then, it was much too late.


	27. Lovely Little Losers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 27: What Happened At Midnight. The resolution to my LLL-verse arc that's been building in this fic, from "Toast" to "Fake Not-Dating" to "Race You", to here! One memorable midnight at the flat, everyone's secrets finally come to light.

It’s 11:30 pm, and Beatrice has snuck into the flat again.

It’s a Saturday, so the four flatmates and all their visiting friends have been hanging out all day as a big group. They all went to a gig of Balthazar’s, where he and some of his music classmates were each performing, and then afterwards there had been a party. Beatrice and Hero had both left early, because Hero was tired and Beatrice ‘had a headache’. She doesn’t know what Ben’s excuse for ditching his friends was, but the group had split off into separate contingents anyway, so they won’t miss him.

Hero knows exactly where Beatrice is going when she miraculously recovers from her headache. She figured out the fake-breakup thing almost right away, of course, but she just smiles knowingly and waves Beatrice off.

So it’s 11:30, and she and Ben have been hiding in his room all night in case anyone else comes home, but it’s been a wonderful evening. It’s such a relief not having to be purposely snarky all the time; they find it’s much more fun when they let the banter come naturally. Of course, they’ve been a little preoccupied for bantering tonight, but kissing is good too.

Until they hear voices in the hall.

                                                                                         ***

It’s 11:45, and Pedro and Balthazar stumble, laughing, into the flat. Balthazar has decided he wants to ditch his guitar before they decide what else to do tonight. They’re probably going out again later. Balthazar flushes at the phrase in his thoughts. He wishes they were going out in that sense, too.

And then Pedro, out of nowhere, grabs his hand.

“Dude, did you hear that?” Pedro hisses, nodding towards the little hallway. “Someone’s here! Oh my god, I told you! I told you Ben was hooking up with Rosa. Costa was right!”

“That could be Freddie who brought someone home, his room’s down that hall too, you know,” Balthazar points out, still highly doubtful that there’s anything between Ben and his sister.

“Then we’ll catch Freddie breaking his own rules! Either way, someone is going to have to ‘fess up, and then we can be done with this staying single rule thing, right?” Pedro pulls Balth into the small darkened bathroom off the hall, leaving the door slightly cracked so he can spy out. “Shhh!” he says, pre-empting Balth’s protests at the idea of spying on their friends.

He can’t help but notice that Pedro still hasn’t let go of his hand. Sighing, Balth joins Pedro in peering through the crack in the door.

                                                                                       ***

It’s 11:50pm, and Freddie can’t find his keys. He exchanges an excited smile with the girl beside him, Rosa with her bright eyes and outgoing nature, who is just as excited to be spending time with Freddie as he is to be with her. He’s been hurt before, that’s why he started the pact. The last time someone had made him feel like this… well, he’d ended up alone, and completely off-track, and he’d realized relationships would only mess with the big plans he had for his life.

And then Rosa and her friends had shown up, to visit Balthazar, and Freddie had done the only thing he swore he’d never do: He started to regret his promise to stay single, for the first time since his heartbreak.

Rosa left her bag in the apartment, they’re just here to grab it before heading back to the party. They’ve decided to keep things casual, move slowly, just have fun together- but first, Freddie has to find those keys.

At last, he finds the right jacket pocket and the keys inside, and they open the door to the flat.

                                                                                      ***

Balthazar and Pedro watch as Ben’s door opens and their roommate himself peers out. Not seeing anyone, he murmurs over his shoulder, “I don’t see anyone, love. Maybe it’s, uh, the house settling? Is that a real thing?”

A blonde girl steps into the doorway and into the hidden boys’ view, and Ben slips his arms around her, and the words “I told you so” are halfway out of Pedro’s mouth and then-

“I should still probably go, before anyone gets back. God, this is so annoying,” says Beatrice, and Balthazar has to laugh.

“Well, you were half right,” he concedes to Pedro in a whisper.

“This doesn’t make any s-” but Pedro cuts himself off, accidentally tripping over Balthazar’s foot and sending them both sprawling onto the floor of the hallway, a tangle of limbs, and Benedick and Beatrice are looking at them in mingled hilarity and horror.

Freddie opens the door to his flat, and Rosa bounds inside and stops short, staring, and Freddie follows her gaze to see Pedro and Balthazar sprawled on the ground in a heap, and Beatrice and Ben in much closer proximity than he would expect two people who hate each other to be, and he himself is standing there with Rosaline Jones when they have no business sneaking around together.

It’s 12:00, midnight on the dot, and everyone’s secrets are out.

                                                                                        ***

“What the hell?” Freddie asks, the first to break the silence, as Pedro and Balth pick themselves up and Ben and Bea guiltily step away from one another.

“Seriously,” pipes up Pedro. “This is not what it looks like! Ben is the one who’s been writing love letters to Rosa!”

“ _What_?” Ben and Bea say in unison.

“Why the hell would you think that?” asks Ben, looking extremely confused.

“Because Costa told me! She saw the letter, bro, and she told me what it said! You’ve been breaking the Flatmate Rules!”

“Okay, first of all, I didn’t send any-,” Ben starts, but Rosa cuts him off.

“Uhh, Pedro, is _this_ what you’re talking about?” She’s holding up an envelope, which she’s extracted from her purse that’s been, helpfully, hanging on a hook by the door the entire time. “Because Costa gave this to me, but I couldn’t read much of it, the handwriting’s so bad.”

“I was wondering what happened to that! I did write it,” Ben admits. “But it was supposed to be for Beatrice, you weirdo. Costa made a mistake. Why would I write a love letter to someone who isn’t-”

He stops, exchanging a look with Beatrice. They seem to make a silent decision together before he finishes the sentence, taking her hand again for emphasis.

“…someone who isn’t my girlfriend?”

“Hah, I knew it!” shouts Pedro. “I knew you were breaking the rules!”

“Pedro, you and Balthazar were literally just hiding together in a very small, very dark room,” Beatrice points out.

“Hey, yeah!” says Ben indignantly. “I’m not the _only_ one breaking flat rules here. I knew it! It was only a matter of time before you two got back together.”

“We are not back together!” Balthazar puts in suddenly. “I think I would know if we were-” He trails off.

“Do you want to be?” says Pedro softly.

“Wh- well, I’d… yeah. Yes. I want to be,” Balthazar admits, looking right into Pedro’s eyes.

“Me too,” Pedro tells him, and leans in for a quick kiss.

“Oh my god, you guys are the worst roommates ever,” laughs Freddie, breaking the moment. “Did anyone stick to any of the rules at all?”

“You’re one to talk,” says Pedro, annoyed. “What’s this, then?”

He gestures to Freddie and Rosa.

“Well, I might have, maybe, _bent_ the rules just a little bit?” says Freddie uncomfortably.

 “It was only a few dates!” Rosa pipes up. “Awesome, casual dates, but not technically a relationship… yet.”

“Guess we’ll all have to move house, now, huh?” laughs Ben. “It was nice while it lasted, guys.”

                                                                                                                                     ***

But by 1 in the morning, the four roommates, plus Beatrice and Rosaline, are sprawled in the little living room of the flat, laughing and talking and eating popcorn while a cheesy romantic comedy plays on the TV in the background for some reason.

By three, they’re all fast asleep. The next day, they wake up very late, and Pedro cooks his famous breakfast for all of them.

 It’s 12:00 again, in the afternoon this time, and over eggs and toast and bacon and vegan and allergen-free alternatives, the anti-relationship rule is finally and firmly and unanimously abolished. 


	28. The Great Hobby-Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 28: Baking. With the Watch disbanded, Georgia Verges and Hugh Dogberry are in need of a new hobby. (I don't know why this turned into an NMTD version of Are You My Mother, but I think the children's book-ishness of it all is kind of cute, even if everyone feels a little one-dimensional.)

Dogberry arrived on Verges’ front porch that Saturday at the same time as he did every Saturday – “perfectly punctilious at exactly eleven” as he said. Verges was all set for a day spent with her best friend.

But Dogberry had only been there an exceedingly short amount of time before the two friends realized something very distressing: they were bored.

“We usually go over our case notes first, right?” Verges asked.

“Of course. But there is the small matter of us being unencumbered, Verges. Outfoxed. Utterly unnecessary!”

“That’s right, we have recanted from investigation and reviled from the detecting business! So then… what should we do?” asked Verges, perplexed.

“We must dislocate, that is, uncover, a new hobby, Verges!”

“To replace detecting? Brilliant! …What kind of hobby?”

“We could ask our illustrious producer Ursula if she can teach us some more about using a camera? Maybe we can exhume our surveillance skills as photographers instead!” suggested Dogberry.

                                                                                            ***

So off they went to Ursula’s house. She answered the door, looking slightly confused at the morning hour, but when she saw it was them, she smiled and invited them in.

“Ursula, we wanted to remand-” started Dogberry.

“To recourse-” cut in Verges.

“To inquire! We wanted to inquire what you’re up to this morning?” Dogberry finished excitedly.

“Can you teach us some more about filmification?” blurted Verges, tossing her side-ponytail over her shoulder to get it out of her way as Dogberry nodded his agreement with the question at hand.

“Please?” they asked in unison.

“Uh, sure, I guess I have a few minutes to help you out. Did you bring your camera?” said Ursula.

They had. So they spent the first part of that Saturday morning with Ursula, trying to learn the skills of the video camera by taking shots of the trees in Ursula’s yard.

But Verges kept zooming in too much on her subjects, and Dogberry’s shots kept turning out blurry, and finally they had to give up, if only because Ursula had to go get some film developed.

So the friends wandered away in search of another new hobby.

                                                                                           ***

They hadn’t walked very far when they reached the park, where Claudio and Pedro were kicking a football around while Balthazar sat nearby strumming his guitar.

“Do you think we would be reasonably reasonable at soccer, Dogberry?” asked Verges. “Maybe that can be our new thing!”

“There is a singular method of divulging that, Verges. We can always attempt it.”

Pedro and Claudio, after promising again that their days of villainy were behind them, agreed to try and help the younger kids learn how to kick the ball effectively. There were a lot of grass stains and very few successful kicks involved, but the friends had to admit this was kind of fun.

“Hey, if you guys ever want to kick the ball around again, let me know,” laughed Pedro. “You might need a little more practice before you go out for the team though.”

“I thought you guys were great, for beginners,” said Claudio, charitably.

“Thanks, but I’m not sure this should be our new thing,” admitted Verges.

“Yeah, it’s surprisingly extraneous, isn’t it?” panted Dogberry. “Maybe we should ask Balthazar about his music. You’re already a kazoo maestro, maybe we should start a band!”

“Sorry, guys, I really need to finish this song,” said Balth when they asked him to help them be more musical. “And I don’t know much about the kazoo, but Ursula says you’re already pretty good, so just keep practicing, that’s all.”

But Verges didn’t have the kazoo with her, so the search for a hobby went on.

                                                                                             ***

Before Verges and Dogberry knew it, they were almost back to Verges’ house. They were just passing the Dukes’ when the door opened and Beatrice walked out.

“Beatrice, hi!” said Verges.

“Oh, hey guys,” said Beatrice. “Before you ask, we don’t have any mysteries going on today, fortunately.”

“Excellent,” said Dogberry. “But do you have any hobbies?”

Beatrice gave him a funny look. “Uh, I mean, besides making videos? I don’t really do those anymore, but-”

“Oh, we know!” cut in Verges. “We don’t really do detecting anymore, either! We kind of need a new hobby.”

“I think Hero’s baking cookies today, maybe she’d let you help. I hope you find your hobby,” said Beatrice with a smile, and left.

 Verges had noticed Beatrice had been trying to be nicer to them since the big case was cracked. She was pretty sure they were even kind of friends now. That was nice, but it wasn’t a new hobby, so they headed into the Dukes’ kitchen to see if Hero would help them.

“Hugh, Georgia, how are you?” she said happily, and they saw that she was already up to her elbows in flour. “And here I thought I was baking alone today. Beatrice was going to help, but she and Ben have plans. So, what’ll it be? Chocolate chip, or peanut butter cookies?”

They decided to make a batch of each. Hero handled her famous chocolate chip cookies, and set Verges and Dogberry up with a mixing bowl and all the ingredients for a batch of peanut butter cookies.

“Hey, this is fun! Maybe we should get Ursula to help us make a cooking show next!” said Verges, spooning out peanut butter.

“It is rather invigorating, Verges,” said Dogberry, cracking eggs.

“Ready to put them in the oven?” asked Hero.

For the next several minutes, the three friends sat around the kitchen counter and watched the timer, while Verges and Dogberry filled Hero in on their hobby search.

“Things have been very boring since we liberated Tibbles the Cat,” sighed Verges.

“It sounds like you’ve been really busy, actually,” Hero pointed out. “Sounds like a lot of fun!”

“It was,” said Verges, perking up. “Wasn’t it?”

“I thought so,” said Dogberry. “It would be vastly more fun with cookies, though.”

Just then, the timer went off- a long time too late. The peanut butter cookies were burned to a crisp, too peanut-buttery, and one had a bit of eggshell stuck in it. They still tasted okay, but a cooking show might not exactly be in the future of the Watch.

“I’m sorry, guys,” said Hero. “Hey, there’s still the chocolate chip ones! I’ll bring some over to your house when they’re done, Georgia.”

“Thanks, Hero!”

                                                                                      ***

The two former detectives headed back over to Verges’ front porch, where they sat, discouraged and hobby-free.

“Maybe we’ll never find a new hobby,” said Verges, staring at her toenails, which were painted bright yellow.

“We didn’t give up on capturing Tibbles, did we? This is just another thing to obfuscate our latest mission. We’re still on the case!” insisted Dogberry.

“Wait, does this mean…?”

“The Watch is back in session! Of course, it’s elementary, my dear Verges. We have another case: the Case of the New Hobby. This one just has fewer villainous vandals, is all.”

 “Hey, so we still have some time left before your mum gets here to pick you up. Want to go watch Sherlock?” suggested Verges.

“But of course! We must hone our obliviation techniques. To the television!”

The silly young sleuths high-fived and headed inside.

This new case would be a piece of cake. They’d reopen the investigation right away, bright and early next Saturday morning.


	29. Sigh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 29: Sigh. Here, have this angsty-ish sappy poem from Benedick's point of view, this just sort of happened. I would have explained more of the everyone-always-leaves thing except for the fact that it might be a little bit spoilery for my WIP "Some Things Change" if I got too into my Benedick backstory headcanons. So I didn't. I guess you can call this free verse or something, because it has no consistent stanza length or whatever. I don't know. Chapter 30 will be the final installment of The Crystal in the Crime! Excitement! ;) (Also, the line "I know you of old" is all Shakespeare. The rest of the poem's mine though.)

**Sigh**

He never shuts up

So he won’t have to hear himself think

He’s always kidding around

Trying not to notice that to everyone else, he’s the joke

 

He doesn’t like to be alone

But it always kind of feels like he is

The commenters online probably know him

Better than his friends do

 

He talks to them more than he’s ever confided in Claudio or Pedro

The guys will use it against him, whatever he says

He can’t tell them what he’s thinking

All they ever do is laugh

 

The only person who even really sort of knows him

Is _her_ , and she hates what she sees

So he hides it away, never opens up again

Everyone leaves, it’s all they ever do

 

His parents, his fair-weather friendships

The girl he told everything to, who threw it all back in his face

He’s never forgotten that, because that’s when he learned

Don’t trust your heart, it lies

 

Yet somehow, when he hears voices whispering

When he hears them saying she loves him

He instantly believes it’s the truth

 

If she loves him, maybe that means he didn’t deserve it

All those times people have left him

Maybe there’s some sort of hope

 

The next time he sees her he loses his breath

Instead his chest is filled with what he already knew

The simple fact that he loves her too

 

There’s no decision that night

When his so-called friends show their true hand

When Hero can’t breathe and Beatrice looks so lost

He doesn’t even think about leaving, this is where he has to be

 

Not because she might love him

But because he knows what it is when people leave

When you love someone, if it isn’t a lie, you stay

So he stays

 

She looks at him that night and sees him again

Through his defenses, past his walls

They don’t talk about any of it until much later

But from that moment, he’s sure

 

And when his so-called brothers try to worm their way back in

Appear in his room and beg him to make them laugh

He decides he won’t let them make him the joke

Not now, and Hero won’t be the joke either if he has a say

Their friendship is different from that day

 

When he tells Beatrice, she doesn’t laugh

In fact, she’s furious

She listens, and he tells her everything

 

He’s been the one holding it together, trying to help her

But now she lets him breathe and release his guard

It isn’t even an effort anymore

Her guard is down too, in a way it hasn’t been since they were fourteen

 

And they talk over it all again

The unfairness, the tragedy, the darkness

The leaving that people seem to do

 

She meets him halfway with the sadness

She has it too, but it’s less so when they’re together

Voices commingling, talking over and through each other

Years of wasted hatred and missed-out conversations

 

It breaks, the wall, and they can’t go back

That day, he finally tells her

As she’s leaving, as she walks away, to return when she’s made sure Hero’s okay

It comes out like a sigh, like a breath he’s been holding

_Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou_

 

She doesn’t hear it, and he’s glad

There’s time for all that, when they’ve dealt with the sadness

Right now they both need a friend

A real friend- he hasn’t had one in four years

He can talk to her forever and a day and not get bored

He wishes it was like that with the others

 

And every time he sees her they lose a little sadness

And every time he leaves her, a sigh

_I love you I love you I love you_

 

A song that she returns

With I’ve seen you, I know you of old, and you stayed

She smiles at him, in the courtyard

When he’s singing the half-done tune

 

All the nerves, all the sadness, all uncertainty

Poof, gone, and he smiles back

And when she kisses him

 

_i love you i love you i love you_

They say over and over

In a touch, in a whisper

In a sigh against each other’s lips

 

This time, he shuts up

And the thoughts he was afraid to hear are gone

There’s only this moment

There’s only Beatrice

 

And then they break apart

Okay, I’ll come to Stats

And silently

_I love you, I love you, I love you_

He sighs.

 

 


	30. The Crystal in the Crime Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 30: Confession. The final installment in my Bones AU! In which the case is cracked, and a confession obtained, but at what cost? (Lots of violence and a little fluff within.)

Pedro took a deep breath and slowly raised his hands above his head. "Why are you in my home?" he demanded. "Who are you?"

As he spoke, the low ringing of the old rotary phone started up again, out in the living room. Maybe someone was missing him already. If he could hold off his assailant for long enough...

"Someone who can't wait to see your pretty little head explode, your Highness," said a voice, cold and mirthful and definitely female.

"How do you know that nickname?" Pedro exclaimed. "Did my brother tell you? What did you do to him, where is he?"

"He’ll be here," said the woman with the gun, and he heard the safety click off. 

         
***

Balthazar had tried everywhere: the FBI, the Founding Fathers, nothing. He'd called Pedro's cell and home phones about a hundred times, but no answer. He was starting to panic now, as he drove towards Pedro's apartment building. What if the killer had already gotten to him? 

Running into Pedro's lobby a few torturous minutes later, he ran smack into the last person he wanted to see. 

"Here to see my brother? Dr. Jones, right?" said John Donaldson silkily. "Funny. Me too. Shall we go up together?"

Balthazar froze. He knew he should turn and run, call for help, anything. But then John would know he had figured the whole thing out, and who knew what the younger man would do then? Balthazar just had to get to Pedro, that was all that mattered. So he pasted on a smile, made his excuses, and allowed himself to be ushered into the elevator. John pressed the button for Pedro's floor, and the doors slid closed. "So glad you could make it here, Doc. This should make things interesting..."

***

"Ooh, that'll be him now, said the woman gleefully, as someone knocked on the door. “Come in, babe, have I got a surprise for you!"

Pedro didn't know who to expect, but he was filled again with horror when an ashen Balthazar stepped through the door and into the kitchen. "Bones! No, what are you doing here, run! She has a gun, she has a-" his words cut off as the woman hit him hard across the side of the head with the gun. Dazed, he felt a warm liquid trickling down the side of his face and a sharp pain just beside his ear. 

"Donaldson!" said Balthazar. "No!"

"I'm afraid you’re both staying right here," sneered John, stepping through the door behind Balth, pointing another gun directly at the back of his head. It looked like the same make as the one from Hero Duke's Dumpster... No. Pedro couldn't believe it.

"John? You... You did all this? Killed all these people? God, why?"

"Isn't it obvious?" crowed the woman behind him.  

"Shut up, Cora! You shouldn't even be here, I told you I need to finish this myself," snapped John.

"I need to take care of perfect Special Agent Donaldson, once and for all. And no one will ever suspect the poor grieving brother of the fallen hero, will they? No, they’ll be looking at the girl he just arrested under suspicion of murder. She was just bailed out, you know. Evidence was all circumstantial. Shoddy police work, bro."

"You killed two people... You really hate me that much?" Pedro asked, sickened. "I don't understand."

"I do," said Balthazar suddenly. "You set all this up so you could murder your brother, and framed Hero Duke to take the fall for it!"

"Shut up!" snapped John again. "You don't know anything about me. You don't know how I've always been the loser of the family, always the failure, never enough next to my perfect half-brother. He got me demoted to cleaning slop off your stupid lab floors, while he got all the glory at his precious FBI. He's been ruining my life since I was ten years old, and now, I'm taking his. Oh, but first, big bro, I think I'll take out your precious boy genius here. And you can watch him die! Pity, Bones, was it? You almost solved it in time. _Almost_."

And with a laugh, he pulled the trigger.

 

"NOOO! BALTHAZAR!" screamed Pedro, but Balth had elbowed John hard in the chest, sending him toppling, just seconds before the shot went off. The bullet shot straight into the ceiling. Balthazar was safe.

John had fallen backwards against the door from the force of the gun and Balthazar's shove. The weapon skidded out of his hand, and Balth kicked it away before he could reach it again.

"Cora!" John shouted, and the woman threw her gun, which John caught easily. In an instant, Pedro had overpowered the unarmed Cora, who was struggling against him, shouting incomprehensibly. When Pedro saw John sneaking up to Balth again with the second gun cocked, he shouted, "Bones! Look out!" 

His momentary distraction meant that he didn't have time to dodge John's next attack.

Before Balthazar could so much as let out a yell, John had changed tack, leveled the gun at his brother and his co-conspirator, and fired one- two- three shots. Sickening cries filled the room as one, two, three shots found human flesh. And John still had the gun. Balthazar in desperation picked up a pot from the small stovetop and smashed it as hard as he could into the back of John's head. The plain-dealing villain was unconscious and caught, and Balthazar rushed to his partner's side. But it didn't matter. It was too late. 

Pedro and Cora lay on the floor, motionless, covered in blood.

    ***

Balthazar was sitting in the waiting room at the hospital, his head in his hands, which were still covered in his partner's dried blood.

He had done everything he could to keep Donaldson conscious and stable until the paramedics got there, but his partner had receded quickly into a fog of pain and finally lost consciousness. Balth had ridden in the ambulance with him as the FBI agents and paramedics secured John and Cora into another bus. They were both still unconscious. Cora had taken two shots and had lost a lot of blood, but she survived. The shot that had hit Pedro, though, was also in a dangerous position, blood-wise: very near his heart. Balthazar got all that from the paramedics' conversation, but they couldn't tell him anything else.

Donaldson had been in surgery for what felt like eons, to repair organ damage. Balthazar should know exactly what they were doing but his fear had rendered him unable to pay attention to the kinds of facts that usually comforted him when he stressed. All he could do was to wait and hope, and hum his favorite song, trying to stay calm. _Sigh no more, no more…_

“Balthazar!”

He looked up to see Ursula racing towards him from the hall, and she skidded to a halt before him, panic in her eyes.

“Thank God, you’re okay. How’s Pedro? What happened? Come here,” she gasped, falling into the hard plastic chair next to his.

“He’s fine,” Balth managed to get out, his voice shaking. “I mean, I don’t know. He’s in surgery, but I don’t think… I don’t know.”

And Ursula gathered him into a hug, as Beatrice and Benedick arrived. They were looking almost as tense and worried as Balthazar felt, and he was pretty sure they were actually holding hands. Huh.

 Ursula must have given them a Look over Balth’s shoulder, because they didn’t ask about Pedro, just took two seats on Ursula’s other side and let her comfort Balth while they waited for news.

It was a very long wait.

                                                                                          ***

A few weeks later, Balthazar was sitting in his office, staring absently at the skulls on a shelf across the room. It had been a long day at work, even without any new murders, and he’d barely been able to concentrate on examining the latest bones brought up from storage in Limbo.

(And it wasn’t just because he could hear Bea and Ben bickering somewhere out in the hall:

“There is no _way_ your stupid bugs are going to give you the burial scene on those old Limbo bones before I get an ID.”

“Wanna bet? I’m going to get the scene AND the time of death before you even figure out the nose shape, Bea. Face it, you can’t win against the King of the Lab!”

“What’s that sound? My computer logging facial markers in my office as we speak? Oh wait, no, that’s just you being a massive loser, and me being the best forensic artist ever!”

“I already have a type of pollen that definitively ties the victim to one specific type of deciduous forest!”

“I have the best reconstruction technology in the country and an impeccable artistic eye. I’m going to finish first.”

“You’re forgetting my _three_ doctorates, love.”

Their voices tapered off as they walked further away from Balthazar’s office. They were just as bad now as they’d been before getting back together, honestly. Balthazar was just glad their competitive streaks had made them more productive on the Limbo remains, although he hoped they didn’t miss crucial details in their rush. He made a halfhearted mental note to lecture them about it later.)

Balthazar’s real distraction was the memory of recent events. He couldn’t stop turning the facts of his last case over in his mind, ever since he’d been present at the interrogations the other day. John and Cora had made a full confession.

 It had been Cora who had given John the idea for the plot, by railing on about wanting to kill an obnoxious ex-boyfriend. John’s original motivation had been to disgrace his half-brother, so he started by making friends with Hero Duke, who was friends with Pedro through her cousin, Beatrice. It wasn’t much of a tie to Pedro’s life, but it gave John a place to start. Cora was glad to help him. Balthazar still wasn’t sure what her motive had been. Maybe she’d just thought it was fun.

Cora worked in Hero and Beatrice’s building, night shift on maintenance, and John and she knew each other because Cora had worked at the Jeffersonian too until recently. She’d been an intern in Paleontology with Hero and Meg, but she’d lost her funding. That, combined with John’s friendship with Hero, gave Cora and John enough information on both women’s personal lives that they could formulate a plot.

The janitor’s closet on the basement floor of Hero and Bea’s building had become John’s base of operations. Knowing how jealous Claudio was, and how unfaithful Robbie was, John made Claudio believe that Hero was cheating on him with Robbie.

After Claudio proposed, Hero wore her ring to work, and that night, as she was saying hello to John on her way out, the oversized ring had slipped off. John had pocketed it, and Hero had been none the wiser to the ring’s whereabouts.

Claudio noticed she wasn’t wearing it, and didn’t believe her when she said she’d lost it. At her birthday dinner, where they were to announce their engagement, Claudio had dumped her and slut-shamed her and broken her heart, but that hadn’t made Pedro look any worse than any other misogynistic cop who took his friend’s side in a supposed cheating scandal.

And before he knew it, Pedro and Claudio were apologizing and making things right, and John had realized this was going to take more than just a little manipulation.

Robbie, as Balthazar had found out, was an accident. Cora and John had brought him to their lair in the janitor’s closet, where they’d asked him to join their plot, hazy though it had been at the time.

Robbie hadn’t wanted any part of it- claimed he was trying to be a better guy for Meg and focus on his work more. He’d turned his back to leave, and John, panicking, had shot him, so he wouldn’t talk.

The chemical residue Dr. Hobbes had seen on the tox results, had been the chemicals from the closet, some of which had seeped in from leaky containers when the body had been stored there for several days.

Finally, when the doorman in the lobby started to notice the smell, Cora had dumped the body, wrapping it in plastic that matched exactly with a sheet that had been used to patch over a broken window in one of the suites earlier that week.

John had given Cora the engagement ring that still had Hero’s fingerprint on it, although he hadn’t known about the print itself. He told Cora to plant the ring on Robbie, to implicate Hero. He’d realized that if he couldn’t make his brother look bad, he would just have to take everything away from him. He just had to blame it on someone else.

So Claudio, knowing Hero’s reaction to Robbie’s death would prove once and for all if she’d had feelings for him, had decided to confront her that day when she was supposed to get lunch with Beatrice and never showed. Claudio mistook her distress at being late for distress about Robbie, and John had been cleaning an empty lab nearby when he’d overheard Claudio tell another Jeffersonian intern where he was going, and that he’d be back after lunch hour.

John had followed him, and listened from around a corner while Claudio and Hero argued. When Hero ran off, Claudio had rounded John’s corner, where he’d come face to face with the vaguely familiar janitor who claimed to have the dirt on his fiancée. They were right near Hero’s place, so John had Cora let them into the janitor’s closet again, where he’d claimed that the proof was hidden.

While Claudio was distracted, John had killed him with a shot to the parietal, from the same gun that killed Robbie. Cora had dumped Claudio’s body in the alley behind the building, and tossed the gun into the Dumpster.

All that was left was to watch and listen as Agent Donaldson and Dr. Jones took the bait and arrested Hero Duke for murder. Then, Cora had taken it upon herself to lie in wait at Donaldson’s apartment, while John got Leo Duke to bail his sister out of jail.

As soon as Hero was free, and therefore able to be plausibly framed for the murder of her arresting officer, John had left for Pedro’s place, where he and Cora were to kill Pedro just the way John had killed Robbie and Claudio. He would frame Hero, and he and Cora would both get off scot-free.

It was the most ridiculous plan Balthazar had ever heard, filled with so many holes, it was a wonder that the two criminals had gotten this far at all. John was going to prison for the rest of his life. Cora was going down as an accessory after the fact and for conspiracy to commit murder, not to mention what she had done in Pedro’s apartment that day.

Balthazar shuddered to think about that, the horror he’d felt seeing his partner, his best friend, his everything bleeding out on the floor that day. The agonizing wait at the hospital, and the terrifying paleness and smallness of Pedro lying still in a hospital bed, his hand cold in Balthazar’s own. Just recalling it, he was already blinking back tears again.

Someone, he became aware, was knocking at his office door.

“Hey,” said a tired-sounding, familiar voice. “Guess who’s cleared for duty again?”

“Really? Already? You’re sure you’re well enough?” Balthazar asked, heart ten times lighter, and batted his tears away before the blonde man in his doorway could see them.

“I am in perfect shape as ever, Bones. Prepared for duty. Ready to catch some murderers. Hey, did you miss me?” asked Donaldson with a grin.

 It was all Balthazar could do not to run to him and wrap him in an embrace, but his partner was still moving gingerly against the pain of his healing wounds.

Pedro took the chair on the other side of Balthazar’s desk, picking up another stray skull and examining it absently before placing it back on the corner of the desk.

“You’ve been recovering from a gunshot wound, Donaldson, not away on vacation. I’ve visited you plenty of times since-” Balthazar started, but there was no arguing it.

“You missed me!” said Donaldson. “I knew it. Aw, Bones, I’m touched. I missed you too. It’s weird not seeing you every day. I mean, you’re my partner. We’re supposed to be together.”

Balthazar flushed at that, but his response was, “Are you positive you’re ready, Donaldson? You’re really okay, what with John and all?”

He tried to ask gently, but he didn’t miss Donaldson’s wince, this time not from physical pain.

“I just can’t believe anyone could hate me enough to kill two people just to cover up trying to off me. My own _brother_ , you know? I was an asshole about Hero, and I’m sorry for that, but I thought John knew that I only ever wanted to help him. But I hurt him instead. And now, Claudio and Robbie… it’s my fault-”

“Hey, it is _not_ your fault what your brother did, okay? You know I don’t believe the dead can hear you when you pray, but I do believe that if they could, Claudio and Robbie would understand that. You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Donaldson.”

“I’m just glad Hero’s okay. She’s home, still coping… I feel so bad for arresting her. I suck.” Pedro sighed.

“Hey,” Balthazar said. “You messed up, but you were trying to do what you thought was right. If she forgives you, you can forgive yourself.”

His hand was on Pedro’s outstretched arm, and Pedro was avoiding Balthazar’s eyes.

“In the hospital, when I was…” he started.

“Don’t mention it,” Jones cut in.

“No, Bones- Balthazar, I need to say this. I heard you, what you said,” murmured Pedro.

Balthazar tried to keep his breathing steady as Pedro placed his own hand on top of the one Balth had rested on his arm. He barely remembered anything about the hospital, it had been such a blur.

But one memory was clear as day- himself, bloodied and tear-stained, sitting beside a motionless Pedro, holding his hand, whispering, “ _Please be okay, Donaldson, you have to be okay, I’m sorry, I love you_.”

He hadn’t thought Pedro was awake, or he wouldn’t have said it out loud.

Now, Pedro finally met his eyes. “You were amazing. You saved my life,” he said quietly.

“You saved mine,” Balthazar answered. He took a deep breath, then made himself say the rest.

 “And what I said at the hospital- I meant every word. You’re my partner, I can’t imagine being without you in my life anymore, and I was so scared. I-”

“I know,” Pedro murmured. “Bones, I know. Me too.”

And he leaned in closer, closer, and then- _Rrrring!_

“Damn,” Pedro laughed, pulling out his cell phone and answering. “Donaldson. Mhm. Right, thanks, on my way.”

He hung up and raised a hand for a high-five. “We’re back, baby! We’ve got another case!”

Balthazar sighed and slapped Donaldson five. It was late at night for a body discovery, but murder waits for no one, so the Special Agent and the forensic anthropologist rose to greet another corpse.

But in the doorway of the office, Balthazar couldn’t resist pulling his partner in for a long hug. “I’m glad we’re back,” he admitted. “I did miss you.”

When they broke apart, Balthazar pressed an impulsive kiss to Pedro’s rough cheek.

“You know, we got each other out of there, all of us,” said Pedro, beaming. “We cracked the case, but only with help from Ursula’s tox screen, Beatrice’s reconstructions, Ben’s particulates and molds, your bone analysis. If it wasn’t for our team, we might not be here right now. And you and I, we’re the center of all of that, and I’m grateful for us.”

“And the center will hold, right?” said Balthazar softly.

“Yeah, Bones. We’re gonna hold.”

 “Then let’s go solve a murder,” he grinned.

The two partners had faced many a grisly murder already, and would face more: a man’s arm found in the belly of a bear, a woman’s decomposing corpse missing both hands and her tongue, two teenagers found together with a mysterious, rare poison in their systems, drownings, stabbings, a beheading or two. The important thing was, they and the Squint Squad would tackle it all together, including the case they were about to start tonight.

“Murder’ll still be there in a few, right?” said Pedro, and Jones supposed that that was true.

In this moment, though, as Pedro drew him in again and planted another soft kiss, this time, against his lips, the only mystery on Jones’s mind was why they hadn’t done this much, much sooner.

The sensation of Donaldson holding him, one hand in his hair, as he smiled against Balthazar’s lips, the rush of dopamine to his brain- overall, the anthropologist thought this was really very nice indeed.

 _Yes_ , he thought, content. _The center will hold._

And it did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Bones end credits music plays*
> 
> So there it is! I've had so so much fun with this AU, I hope you all like how I've wrapped it up! And I hope my characterization was okay, and Pedro and Balth still felt enough like themselves even though they were also being Booth and Brennan. Anyway, thank you for reading! I hope to have my very last LLFL ficlet up soon! I can't believe I'm almost done! :)


	31. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 31: Bleurgh. There's one argument, at the beginning of everything, that Beatrice and Benedick might not ever resolve, and maybe that's okay.

They were curled up on the couch in Ben’s living room- or at least, they had been curled up, watching Game of Thrones and cuddling. Until a commercial had come on. A commercial, featuring a large, talking pink flamingo.

Beatrice didn’t even know what the commercial was advertising. She hadn’t been able to hear the voice-over because the second the pink-feathered creature had appeared onscreen, her boyfriend had gleefully shouted “FLAMINGO!”, pointing at the television, entirely too excited about this development. Not expecting this, Bea had just about jumped out of her skin.

In Benedick’s defense, it _was_ getting pretty late, and they were both tired, so things like flamingo commercials were that much more hilarious and exciting.

(They’d spent a long day hanging out with Pedro, who was now almost completely used to the occasional hand-holding and heart-eyes exchanged by his two friends. They hadn’t really been a trio since they were fourteen, and even though it had been hard for her to forgive him after what he’d done to Hero, Beatrice was really glad to be friends with Pedro again. She’d missed him.)

But anyway, getting back to the point.

“Was that really necessary?” she snapped, when she’d recovered from the shock. “You scared me!”

“Sorry, love. But it’s a flamingo, what are the odds, right?” Ben said. “The most majestic creatures in the world, and we happen to see one during Game of Thrones!”

“First of all, it wasn’t _during_ Game of Thrones, what would a flamingo be doing in Westeros?”

“Being _awesome_! Maybe someone in Westeros has a flamingo army, you never know, Beatrice,” insisted Ben. “I wish _I_ had a flamingo army,” he added wistfully.

Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Bleurgh, whatever. Anyway, giraffes are better.”

Benedick let out a gasp reminiscent of that time Beatrice had dissed tea to his face at lunch. That had been a great argument, she’d enjoyed wiping the floor with his mango-skin-eating face.

Now, he removed his arm from around her and scooted a bit to the side so he could turn to face her on the couch. “Blasphemy!”

“I only speak the truth,” Beatrice smirked, a glint coming into her eye, knowing exactly what was coming next. She pushed back the hood of her giraffe onesie, the better to see him clearly, to laugh at the scandalized look on his face. “Giraffes. Are more majestic. Than. Flamingos.”

“Ohh, just you wait, Bea. I’ve had four years to come up with an in-depth philosophical argument determining exactly how much better flamingos are than giraffes, and I am not afraid to use it!”

“Are we seriously debating this again?” Beatrice sighed. “I don’t know why you even try, you know I’m always right!”

“I just don’t understand how you can deny the overwhelming majesticness of the best animal ever,” said Ben, gesturing to Floyd the flamingo, who was sitting on the coffee table in front of them for some reason.

“Because they’re totally ridiculous?”

“They are not! They’re pink, and they stand on one leg, and they can fly! Giraffes can’t fly. Flying is awesome. You lose.”

“ _That’s_ your big argument? Please. You don’t need flight if you can ride a giraffe, they’re so tall! It would be awesome, you could ride around and take a safari! And they’re spotted and yellow and much nicer to look at than a bunch of birds that are the worst, most painful color ever!” Beatrice shot back.

“Well, flamingos live in South America. You’ve always wanted to go there, and you can’t find giraffes there, can you?” Ben said, pointing a finger at her like he’d just made an undeniable point in his favor.

Beatrice looked him right in the eye and with a completely straight face said, “Have you ever heard of zoos?”

He was actually speechless for a second there, gaping at her incredulously. She smiled. Ben was cute when he was incredulous.

And then he was smiling too, in a crafty, I’ve-got-you-now sort of way. Oh, boy.

“Well… well… if it wasn’t for flamingos, we might never have been friends!” he said proudly. “Beat that!”

“You do know I could say the same about giraffes? An argument goes both ways!”

“I guess you have a point there,” Ben admitted. “But still, without Floyd I would never have found the inspiration to write you that amazing song, and then where would we be?”

“I don’t think plastic lawn flamingos are usually a necessary element of the creative process, but okay,” laughed Beatrice.

“You don’t know my creative process,” said Ben.

“I’m sure it’s really something, knowing what the results are,” she said, but fondly, not scornfully at all.

“The _point_ is, flamingos are better.”

“Giraffes!” Beatrice exclaimed, not to be outdone.

They both fell silent for a moment, considering the question of the most majestic animal of all.

“You know what, giraffes and flamingos actually have some things in common,” Beatrice ventured to say. “They both have long necks.”

“And long, thin legs,” Ben put in.

“And unique colors and patterns,” added Beatrice.

“They’re both pretty majestic, really. In their different ways,” Ben said thoughtfully. “I guess they kind of go together, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” said Beatrice, edging nearer, closing the space between them. “I think they really do.”

She fell against him once more, her arms snaking around his neck, and he drew her close again.

“You do make a really cute giraffe,” he said happily, and she could feel his hand warm at her waist through the soft fabric of the onesie, the other hand coming up to cup her cheek.

“Coming around to my side, now, I see,” she murmured, and whatever retort he’d wanted to make was lost as she leaned in and kissed him soundly.

A short while later, distinctly more disheveled and flushed and out of breath than they had been before, they broke apart. Beatrice wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to that, and maybe she didn’t want to.

And she looked into his eyes, beaming, content, and he, grinning back at her, that post-argument satisfaction written all over his face, said softly, “Flamingos are still better, though.”

She groaned, leaning her head against his shoulder again. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Believe it, baby!”

“Oh my god, shut up, Flamingo Fetish!”

“I’m telling you, they’re incredibly-”

“If you say ‘majestic’, I am walking out of here and never coming back, dickface.”

“-incredibly majestic, but they still can’t hold a candle to my amazing, beautiful giraffe-friend.”

“Nice save. And nice pun, by the way.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me I’m more majestic than a giraffe now?”

“Yes, you are more majestic than a giraffe. And more fun to cuddle with, too,” she admitted, yawning. “Wait… did we just agree on something?”

“I think we just agreed that this debate will never end! Results inconclusive, further experimentation required.”

“Good. I think I like it better that way. It’s a classic.”

“Definitely.”

They fell silent, starting up the episode again, yet too tired to pay proper attention.

Bea was kind of glad she and Ben still couldn’t resolve the great flamingo debate. It had been one of their first, and certainly their most memorable argument.

 It had been their beginning, the start of something that she kind of hoped might never end. Flamingoes and giraffes. Who would have thought it?

These were her hazy thoughts as she lay there, enjoying the quiet and the warmth of cuddling close to Ben, the pair of them making a surprisingly comfortable tangle of tired limbs. She could feel his thumb rubbing softly, absently along her shoulder. And as the fantasy violence raged on in the background, all she could hear was his soft and steady breathing, matching with her own.

In another moment, they were both fast asleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End
> 
> Ahhhh! Yay! I did it! I made it to 31! Couple of things here:  
> 1\. I don't have cable or HBO, so if I missed something obvious, like if they don't actually have commercials or something, I'm sorry, just pretend they do. Also I made up the flamingo commerical completely, because I needed to start the debate somehow. Also also I've never seen Game of Thrones, so if I messed something else up there, my apologies. Also x3, I know it makes no sense for Bea to be in her giraffe onesie at Ben's late at night without the aunties wondering where she is, but I don't care. She can wake up after the end of this fic and go home if that makes more sense. (Oh my god I should have put Ben in a flamingo onesie to match! Headcanon that if such a thing exists, Ben has one at some point, even if it isn't in this fic. Maybe here he's just wearing a flamingo-print comfy shirt instead.)  
> 2\. Thank you so much to anyone who's read even one chapter of this fic, to everyone who's been commenting or who's left kudos or liked or reblogged any of these on tumblr. This will sound sappy, but you make me happy. ;) It's been lovely sharing LLFL with all of you. And thanks to my fellow fic writers for being awesome and writing amazing things i've had a ball reading. Kudos to all of you.  
> 3\. I hope you liked this final ficlet! It's been a pleasure, flamango friends. I'm so excited to keep writing and reading (and watching LLL!) with you. Stay awesome. <3


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